God Forsaken High School
by KR Blake
Summary: '"How do you deal with everything? The rumors; the laughter; the dirty looks; everything everyone does to you?" Austin asks. I have to think about this for a second. "I don't know. I think… I think a while ago, I stopped trying to stop them. I let them have their fun and games, and I just make sure I know they're lying."' A.U. Ally P.O.V.
1. Harriet Tubman

Chapter one: How Harriet Tubman Helps The Modern Day Freak

* * *

"_People say sometimes that Beauty is superficial. That may be so. But at least it is not so superficial as Thought is. To me, Beauty is the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible."_

_-Oscar Wilde, The Picture Of Dorian Gray_

* * *

I keep my eyes glued to the linoleum floor beneath me as I walk. '_Don't look at anyone,_' I remind myself silently. '_Don't look at them, and they won't look at you._' I know this is a lie, of course, but it gets me to my next class without so many tears.

I sit down in my desk at the back corner of the classroom before even the teacher has arrived. That is how I get through it. I avoid anyone and anything at all costs.

That's what I get for being invisible.

That's what people remind me of constantly.

Like it's my fault.

The teacher walks into the room and sets her briefcase down on her desk. She doesn't look at me, even though she knows I'm there. She knows why I arrive early to each class. That's why the door is always unlocked in the morning.

I look at the teacher across the room as she sets up her files and papers across her desk. She is young; this is her first year away from teachers college. She is pretty, the way her perfectly brown hair always manages to escape from behind her ear and fall into her eyes the colour of mirrors. Most people say how she is the most beautiful person in the school. And I agree, but on a different level. She is beautiful, that much is apparent. But she is the prettiest person on the inside I have ever met. She is one of the few people in this god forsaken school that talks to me in the hallway, or in the parking lot, or anywhere else for that matter. She treats me like a human being. That is how she is beautiful; she is nice.

"Good morning, Ally." She says, still not looking up from her desk. I clear my throat.

"Good morning, Ms. Lewis." I say in a small voice that is sadly my own.

"How did you sleep?" she asks. I know what she means; she doesn't care how many hours I slept last night. She is asking if it has gotten any better.

"Not very well." I say. Now, she looks up at me, smiling apologetically.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She says curtly as other students start to stroll into the homeroom class.

Some of them stare at me in disgust as they pass, muttering things about whores and losers combined into one. I don't react to this. Rumors about me have been flying around school for years. This one about me being a slut is only the latest in a sadly mile long list of insults thrown at me.

I want to react, though. Oh, I want to. I want to stand, my face twisted with six years of hatred bottled up, pick up my metal chair from the ground, and smash it right through the face of the boy who muttered the comment. I want to scream at every one of the people in school, one after the other, until my throat is raw. I want to point out everything that is wrong with them, and rub salt into their wounds.

I don't though; my mother taught me self-control.

Instead, I glue my eyes to the wooden desk and focus in on Ms. Lewis as she speaks about the civil war. '_Harriet Tubman, Harriet Tubman, Harriet Tubman…_' I chant in my mind. '_Do not react. Harriet Tubman. Do not react. Harriet Tubman._'

I pass through the first half of American History okay, until the clock strikes 8:53. A note hops onto the surface of my desk. I know I shouldn't read it; I know exactly what's going to be written. But I take it in my shaking hands and unfold it anyways. Inside is a crude drawing I shan't say, followed by the words, "_I wonder how many of these you've seen… -A_"

I know who A is, unlike in Pretty Little Liars. It's the blond headed boy in the front row, trying to stifle his laughter into his binder. I frown at the back of his perfect little head, throwing the note away into the wastebasket beside me. I know why Ms. Lewis keeps it against the wall beside me, and never looks at what she throws out every week. She knows everything that happens in her classroom.

"_Yes,_" I muse to myself. "_Because I am _much_ more of a slut than any other girl you've slept with, Blondie. In fact, my atomic number is 67._"

For the rest of the class, I doodle in my notebook and mentally murder the blond headed boy in the front row. And that's all he is; a boy. He says he is a man, but I know he isn't. I know he is just a boy, throwing tantrums left right and centre.

At the end of first period, I collect my books and my textbook, and wait until everyone has filtered out of my area before standing up. I brush out some creases in my skirt, and walk behind everyone else as they leave. In the corner of my eye, I can see Ms. Lewis watching me. I look directly at her. The way she catches my eye, I know what she is thinking.

I let my pace fall back gradually, and stop in front of her desk when everyone has walked out to their next period.

"What did the note say?" she gets straight to the point, sitting on the edge of her wooden desk. I tell her. She frowns deeply, and says something very unladylike. "And you know it was him?"

I recite his seat aloud. "First row, two from the door." she nods. She doesn't bother to grill me any further; a photographic memory doesn't lie. She just waves her hand, telling me I can go. I say good bye and walk out of the classroom. Unfortunately, being the "uber slut" I am, people feel the need to point it out.

Three boys are waiting outside the door. That's all they are: boys. No men in my sight. One of them, the one standing closest to the door, smirks in his usual smug manner. Even if I can't see the back of his head, I know the front too well to doubt that he sent the note.

"Hey, Al-ly." He grins. I don't like how he puts a little skip in between the syllables in my name. "Did you get my note?"

"Yes, I did." I say, barely controlled. "You really shouldn't be bragging if yours is that small." The words tumble from my lips before I can stop them. I slap my hand over my mouth, my cheeks flushed with colour. his hazel eyes narrow.

"You little –" He started to growl, before the door behind us clicks open.

"Were you gentlemen looking for some extra help on the Underground Railroad?" Ms. Lewis says pleasantly from behind me. I know how much it is a lie, though.

"No, ma'am," One of the brown haired boys on Blondie's left says automatically. "We were just asking Ally here about our homework assignment."

"Well, if you had been listening, you would know to either come ask me, or read chapter eighteen." There is not a drop of venom in her voice, but I know it's there. It's in her eyes. "Now, don't be late for your next class!" she gives them a light push down the hall, and away. She waves at them as they go. "Now go on, Ally. You don't want to be late for Physics, do you?" she smiles knowingly. I blush.

I start to walk down the hall. After a few steps, I look back. She is leaning against her door frame as kids pool into her classroom. She is watching me.

"Thank you." I mouth over my shoulder to her. She nods and turns away. I smile inwardly. I know I have one ally in this god forsaken hellhole of a school.

Ω

I sit down at my desk in the physics classroom, just before the teacher tells us to take out our notebooks. My desk is in the front row this time. I'm not scared in physics. I know I should be, being the only grade ten in a class for only university level grade twelves. But I'm not scared. These people are indifferent when it comes to me. They don't hate me, they don't love me. They don't care. It's refreshing, really. No obnoxious grades nines, tens, and elevens to taunt me. This class contains actual gentlemen. I love it.

I've loved taking advanced classes for six years. That's the advantage to being intellectually superior: I don't have to sit every period around my idiotic peers. I still have to get all my compulsory credits, but most of those I earned last year. Except for Am His, or, as I know it, homeroom hell.

I focus in on the balding, paunchy man in front of me, writing down seemingly complicated equations on the board. But they aren't complicated. If you take a deep breath and focus on one piece at a time, it's easy. Average velocity is the distance divided by the time. So that would mean distance is the velocity times the time. So if I drop my textbook off the roof of the first floor, and it falls for 3.27 seconds at a velocity of 8.33 metres per second, the roof would be…27.2 metres high.

I don't have to check my math. I know I'm right. I don't mean to sound cocky or anything, but there's this click in the pit of my stomach that I've learned to trust. It tells me what I already know: I'm right.

Ω

I don't have to suffer through any other classes, like I do Am His. I have all other grade twelve classes. The only thing I have to worry about is lunch. The second the teacher dismisses my university psychology class, I make a mad dash for the exit. I am out before anyone else, like every other day. I speed walk to my locker, grab my lunch in a brown paper bag, and head to the doors at the side of the school. I make it out, and into the parking lot unscathed, but the parking lot is where the _real_ war is.

The second I step out of the door, I know I am in trouble. A Nike sticks out in front of the door, which I hop over no problem. I don't look to see Blondie staring at me evilly. I already know he is. I flick my dark brown hair over my shoulder and continue walking across the parking lot. I can hear him following me.

"Hey, come on, Al-ly." He puts the skip in my name again. I crinkle my nose. "I know you're just a little freak or whatever, but hows about we go find a janitor's closet somewhere?" I can hear the smugness in his stupid, idiotic voice. "I mean, I know how much you love janitor's closets." His friends hoot and holler around him.

That's it.

My hands ball into tight fists around my brown paper bag. I can feel my sandwich squishing in my grip, and tuna water getting all over my apple, but I don't care.

I don't care.

I throw the brown paper bag onto the pavement and wheel around to him. "You want to sleep with me? Go ahead." I snap, my voice sharp and unlike my usual voice. He furrows his brow in confusion. "I dare you. In fact, I dare you to kiss me right now, in front of everyone."

His pretty little face sours, like I just force fed him a thousand lemons. "You little–" he starts to list off every slander he knows – and he knows a lot. Some are surprisingly colourful and imaginative.

"You can't do it, can you?" I cut him off abruptly. He falls silent. I can feel people staring now; not just his friends, but anyone else who is passing by. In my peripheral vision, I can see Ms. Lewis among the crowd, scowling. "I knew it. You're just a silly little boy throwing a tantrum when he doesn't get his way. You're no man." I shake my head. "You don't deserve the pants you wear."

I turned on a heel and walked away, forgetting about my broken lunch on the pavement. I walk through the crowd, ready to push anyone and everyone aside, but I don't need to. They move away from me like I'm a leper.

I scowl and walk away from the hellhole high school. I walk a few blocks until I reach the park where I usually eat my lunch. It's a community park, but empty, as all the kids are at school. I climb up onto the top of the monkey bars and sit, my legs dangling through the metal bars.

I finally let myself out. I let the tears fall down my cheeks, and onto the metal bars. 'What_ did you just do, Ally?_' I think to myself. '_You've only made it worse_.'

I finally let myself utter those three words that have soured my lips for six years. "Austin freaking Moon."

* * *

**Hey, guys! I know, I usually finish an story before starting a new one, but I got this chapter in my head earlier today, and it couldn't wait! Anyways, this story is sort of on prototype, so I won't be updating until Popular To Invisible is finished, or I am bored (admittedly, probably the latter rather than the former). If you don't know what I'm talking about, check out my other story, Popular To Invisible, and tell me what you think! Pretty please? I'll pay you! Well, I won't pay you, but...you'll hold a special place in my heart. While you're at it, tell me what you think of this chapter, and what you think will happen next! **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	2. Skipping Biology

Chapter two: Skip Biology, They Said. It'll Be Fine, They Said

* * *

"_I don't like being rumbled, I like to be invisible."_

― _Sebastian Faulks, Engleby_

* * *

I look across the empty park blankly, as I have been for the past hour. I know I've probably missed half of biology, but that's okay. I already know how to dissect a fetal pig – I did it last year with the grade elevens.

A cool breeze flies past me, whipping my dark hair around my shoulders. I shiver. It seems too cold for it to be September. It's almost like Mother Nature is yelling at me to get back to school. I hug my arms close to my chest and run my hands up and down the forearms, trying to rub away the Goosebumps. Finally, I give in. I slide down from the monkey bars and onto the sand below. I can feel san wedging in between my toes through the flip flops I wear. I cringe at the feel and continue on. I glance down at my watch as I walk towards the school. Fourth period is just about to end. I can be back in time for advanced calculus no problem.

I pick up my pace a little, and in a few minutes, I see my prison right in front of me. I suppress a sigh and walk in through the side door, ignoring the stares and mutters around me. I know without a doubt that word has gotten out about how I challenged Blondie. I scowl at his mental image. I keep walking; my eyes glued to the linoleum floor once more. I can't help but think how this floor has always been there. It's obvious in the scuff marks and cracks, but I know it has _always_ been there. Even when I wasn't. It's weird to think that anything went on here before I came to C.S. Lewis High School (named after Clive Staples Lewis, born November 29th 1898, died November 22nd 1963. Author of the Chronicles Of Narnia).

I arrive at the advanced calculus classroom just before the teacher does, and take my seat in the middle row. I already know not to take the front row in calculus. It's where these five cocky guys always sit. Even though there are six seats in the front, I made the mistake once of taking that sixth chair. It was easily the most annoying calculus period ever.

I sit down and pull out my binder from my bag, along with a calculator (though, that's just to keep the teacher off my back for not being prepared. I don't need a calculator) and my textbook. The incredibly tall teacher stalks into the room, scribbles down instructions to answer twenty questions in our textbook, and sits down at her desk. I watch, laughing to myself, as she pulls out an issue of _People_ magazine, and props her feet up on her desk as she reads. Mrs. Burbank is probably my laziest teacher. Half the kids are failing her class because she rarely teaches.

I finish the questions easily, and sit there for the rest of the school day, tapping my pencil against the wood surface of the desk. To pass the time, I look around the classroom, at my classmates. The girl beside me is Lauren. She's nice enough, though I've only talked to her a few times. I can see through her arms she is having trouble. She is scribbling out wrong equations and erasing answers from her binder madly. I lean over and tap her on the arm.

"Would you like some help?" I whisper to her. She smiles gratefully and brings her binder closer for me to see where she went wrong.

So, for the next half hour until the bell rings, I show her how to properly factor polynomials. By the time the bell rings at 2:15, she has finished all twenty questions perfectly, and I have turned back to my desk top and resumed tapping my pencil. I don't even notice that I have tapped out Mozart's Symphony in perfect key until I reach the last bar. I smile to myself.

At 2:15, the bell rings, and I run for the door. Unfortunately, the five cocky guys have made it to the door first. They take their time going out the door, and by the time I reach the door, I know I have to fight one more battle today.

I can see Blondie waiting just outside the doorway for me with his two lackeys. I scowl.

"Hey, Al-ly." He smiles evilly in a way I don't like, even more so than the skip in my name. "I have a surprise for you."

I ignore him and keep walking down the crowded halls of the school, my eyes glued to the linoleum beneath me. I can hear the three following me, though.

"Hey, come on, babe." He catches my arm and pulls me back to face him. I avoid his hazel eyes at all costs. I try to wrench my arm from his grip, but it's too tight. "Don't be like that."

"Please don't call me babe." I say in a small voice.

"Why?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, that's right! Girls like you get scared when they see a commitment coming." I feel the tips of my ears heat as his two lackeys cackle.

"Yes, Blondie. I'm a dirty, dirty girl aren't I?" I say through gritted teeth. "Or is that just you?"

His face twists in anger again. I can see it in his eyes; I've done it, now. '_Way to go, Ally. Look how you've messed it up, now._' I chide myself.

Before he can do anything, I wrench my arm from his grasp and walk away. I walk down the halls, alone once more. I turn to the hallway where my locker is, and stop in front of 2352. Instantly, I see what kind of "_surprise_" Blondie left for me. In large red, spray painted letters, is the message, "_GO BACK TO THE NUTHOUSE BITCH!_" across my locker door. I scowl, wondering how he got a hold of cans of spray paint. It's illegal to buy spray paint in Miami until you're eighteen. Blondie's only fifteen. Ignoramus.

I twist in my combination to the lock on the door of 2352 and open it. A note falls to my feet. I bend down and crumple it up. I've had countless of these before. I throw it into the trash can nearby, grab my books, and go.

I walk through the school once more, still ignoring stares. '_Harriet Tubman,_' I say in my mind. '_Do not react. Harriet Tubman. Do not react._'

Ω

I push open the door to my house, drop my bag by the door, and call into the house. "Mom?" I can hear the tap running in the kitchen. I walk in that direction.

"Hey, Ally." Mom says from the sink, where she is washing the never ending pile of dishes in the kitchen. I open one of the cupboards and pull out a granola bar. I start to eat it, leaning against the granite countertop. "So, the school called today." My grip tightens around the granola bar. "It was the principal. Something about…skipping biology?"

The granola bar falls onto the ground. I swear mentally. She sounds so nonchalant, but I know what she's thinking. "_Stupid girl._"

"You know how easily the principal could bump you back to the tenth grade." Mom finally looks at me from the dishes. She looks tired and worn, but beautiful as ever. "You know the deal, Ally. No skipping and you stay in your classes."

"I know mom." it feels like the millionth time I've said that. She's always reminding me about our deal with the school. No skipping, no failing, no more tenth grade. "I just got fed up. Besides, we were only talking about the dissection tomorrow. I didn't miss anything important."

Mom shoots a look at me that says, "_Wrong answer, kid._"

"But I digress." I hold up my hands in surrender.

"You better, missy." She says pointedly. "Now, go get dressed. We have a dinner with your father's company tonight."

I groan. I hate these dinners. They're full of stuck up, corporate fat cats that always tell me "I've grown so much!" It's creepy.

"Allyson Elizabeth Dawson, you are going to the dinner." Mom says sternly. I don't argue. Not when she uses my full name. "And don't even try to pull the 'homework' card. You finish it in class, and you know it!"

I start to walk away when her voice stops me. "And you know. Your father's co-worker is going to be there. He is bringing his son, who's about your age." I shiver. I can tell what she is trying to say. "_Flirt, be happy, not like you. Like the other worker's daughters._" It feels cheap, but I don't argue. Dad once told me to never argue with a woman, even when you're right. It makes perfect sense right now.

Ω

By 5:23, I had convinced myself to stop complaining and slipped into a short purple dress with nice swirls around the bottom hem. It goes to about mid-thigh, and cuts low around my chest. I look at myself in the full length mirror in my room. I look nice. My hair is curled, like it always it (but that's natural) and mom insisted on putting on some eyeliner to make my dark eyes seem darker. I cringe away from them. They seem dark, but _too _dark. It's unnatural.

I scowl and turn away from the mirror. I grab my purse and walk out of the room, down to the front room of our house. Mom and dad are already waiting for me. Dad is dressed nicely in a tux and bowtie. Mom looks stunning. She is wearing a floor length black gown with a few sequins around the rib line. Her hair is up in a knot on top of her head, the exact same colour as mine. I look like her, as people always say. We have the same hair, the same eyes, the same nose, and the same vampire-pale skin. Is it weird to say I hate my skin? Well, I do. It works on her, but not on me. I just look like I'm deathly ill.

"Are you sure I have to go?" I complain. Dad's expression sterns.

"Yes." Is all he says, and I know I have no shot at getting out of this. It's not what he says, but how he says it. It is full of finality. I have no hope tonight.

Ω

And that is how I **[1]** came to be here, standing in line for the pasta buffet. I hold my plate in one hand and a set of utensils wrapped in a napkin in the other. I wait impatiently, tap, tap, tapping my foot impatiently at the man in line in front of me. He is taking forever in choosing a slice of lasagne. People behind me complain and holler at him to hurry up. But I can tell by his posture that just makes him go slower.

Finally, I snap. "Hey, buddy, can you hurry up? I'm starving."

The man grumbles something about inconsiderate youth, picks a piece of lasagne at random, and waddles off somewhere. I move into his spot. I select a piece of lasagne, sprinkle on some cheese, and move out of line.

What I find is…_horrifying_. A tall blonde boy is standing there behind me. When I meet his eyes, his jaw drops open to the floor. I stop dead. My plate slips from my hand and clatters onto the floor. The plate doesn't break, but the lasagne spills everywhere. I don't move to clean it up, just keep staring at the blonde boy I, sadly, know all too well.

Of course, he's not staring at _me_. He's staring at my chest, which I am to frozen to cover up. I just hiss, "Austin _freaking_ Moon."

* * *

**A/N:**

**[1]: ...Met Your Mother. I'm sorry. I had to. I love that show.**

**Wow. This is awesome! I woke up this morning, and I had 30 e-mails from . And like 10 when I was still awake. P.S., thank you to everyone who reviewed at 1 a.m. *sarcasm*. I was trying to sleep. Anyways, I got a lot of reviews! Keep 'em coming! Also, I'm sorry this chapter is so bad, but I just wanted to write another one for you guys! **

**Note!**

**DisneychannelwatcherWow: Yes, you do say who it's from. If everyone could, that'd be a huge help, and I wouldn't feel bad about not replying :(  
**

**Thank you to all the Anons who reviewed, and keep on reading everyone!**

**-KR Blake Ω**


	3. Puppy of the Enemy

Chapter three: Nitro Is The Enemy's Puppy

* * *

"_You can just sit in here, impervious and invisible. So invisible you might even forget yourself." _

― _Charles Yu, How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe_

* * *

His eyes travel all over my body. I silently curse myself for wearing such a revealing dress. Then his hazel eyes come back up to meet mine, and he smirks in his usual cocky way. That smirk snaps me out of my reverie. I bend down and scrape the lasagne back onto my plate. Of course, I can feel his eyes following my every move. I supress the urge to shriek "_Stranger Danger!_" at the top of my lungs, and walk over to the nearby wastebasket. I drop the now germ-ridden lasagne in the wastebasket and hop back in the line. I can hear him following me. I roll my eyes.

Thankfully, all he does is stand unnecessarily close (actually, I don't know why I'm thankful. Although, with his reputation, I guess I should be) and wait behind me. Finally, my turn comes. I grab another slice of lasagne, two pieces of garlic bread, and walk away. Again, I hear the rhythmic footsteps behind me as I walk. I resist rolling my eyes, and walk over to the table where mom and dad are talking lightly with another couple around their age. I sit down across from my mom and start on the garlic bread.

Not a second later, the empty chair beside me scrapes against the tiled floor of the ballroom, and a heavy body slumps down in it. By the sound of the body, I don't even have to look up before I let out a swear.

"Is this really necessary?" I snap at Austin, who sits beside me, smirking through his lasagne. "Are you really this incapable of leaving me alone?"

"Ally, dear, you already know Austin?" the woman mom is talking to raises an eyebrow at me. My head snaps to her. Then I see it. The angle in her cheekbones. They are identical to the jackass's who sits beside me. And the way her blonde hair manages to always fall into her eyes, no matter how many times she pushes it out of her face.

My mouth goes dry.

"Yes, mom." Austin says in a polite tone that shocks me. "In fact, Ally and I have Am His together. Isn't that right, Ally?" Austin flashes me a kind of look that is somewhere between a warning look and a cocky grin.

All I can do is nod.

"Now, Ally, what were you saying earlier?" Austin turns in his chair to me.

"I…was asking if we had any Am His homework." I say slowly, racking my brain for some viable reason for talking to him, other than the reason I hope to god mom is not thinking of.

"Always the scholar, Ally." Mom's eyes shine with pride. Then she turns back to Mrs. Moon. "Ally is actually graduating this year."

"Is that so?" Mrs. Moon looks at me, impressed. I nod.

"I could have graduated last year if I took summer school, but Florida State wouldn't accept me until I turned sixteen, so," I shrug. "The only credit I need is Am His." '_Not worth it, if your son is my classmate, really._' I want to add, but I stop myself.

"Really?" Mrs. Moon sounds genuinely interested in my future. "What do you want to major in?"

"Music." I say.

"She wants to be a musician." Mom says.

"A stupid career choice in my opinion." Dad quips from his conversation with a man who I assume to be Mr. Moon. I glare at him.

"Really?" Austin asks. For a second, I try to figure out if he is just putting on a show for his mother, but in his eyes, I can see a once in a lifetime genuine smile. "I want to be a musician, too! Well, no, scratch that, I want to be _the_ musician. I want to be a rockstar, like Led Zeppelin."

"Wouldn't you rather be like Taylor swift?" I say smoothly. Mom glares daggers into me, Mrs. Moon stares, and Austin's formerly gleeful face sours.

For a second, the table is deathly quiet, until Mrs. Moon clears her throat awkwardly. "So, Austin, do you and Ally talk much at school?"

"Sadly, no." I say in a polite tone that makes mom relax a bit. A lie, of course.

"You know, we really should." Austin says, flashing a slightly seductive smile at me. Gross.

"I'm sorry," I maintain my polite tone. "But I try not to associate with cocky bastards on a daily basis." I smile.

"Ally!" Mom nearly shrieks from across the table. I ignore her.

"Yes, because _I'm _the cocky one, little-miss-holier-than-thou." He shoots back smoothly.

"Austin." his mom says in a warning tone. Again, the parents are ignored.

"Well, I'm certainly not the one going around calling people sluts left, right, and centre, now am I?" I retort, my temper rising steadily. Mom narrows her eyes at me. Again, she goes ignored.

"Hey, I never called you a slut." He defends himself. In my periphery, I see Mrs. Moon's shoulders lax.

"No, you just called me a whore, a nut job, a raging bitch-a-saur, asked if I wanted to find a janitor's closet to sleep with you – have I forgotten anything, jackass?" I list off some of his torments on my fingers.

"Allyson!" mom hisses across the table. I take no notice of her warnings.

"Oh, this is rich." Austin scoffs. "I'm the jackass. Well, I specifically remember you calling me a child, saying I had a small commando, saying I didn't deserve the pants I wear – am _I_ missing anything, genius?"

I narrow my eyes. That does it.

I tighten my hands into fists on the nice white table cloth.

"Allyson." Mom says one last time in warning. Message not received.

"You self-centred, belligerent, imbecilic, over inflated man-child!" I snap, louder than I thought I would. I throw every word I can into his smug face, but I don't stop there. "I called you a child because that's exactly what you are! You are a tyrannical, bigoted, egotistical, conceited, idiotic, arrogant, pathetic, stupendously belligerent, jack-double –" my voice rises in decibels steadily until I am yelling at him.

"_ALLYSON ELIZABETH DAWSON!_" mom cuts off my tirade sharply with a shriek that splits my ears.

"Jerk." I finish begrudgingly.

"Ally!" Mom gapes at me. I continue to glare at Austin, ignoring her. "Apologize to Austin _this instant!_"

Suddenly, I release the bunched up tablecloth from my fists and stand from the table. I don't listen to mom telling me to sit down, or dad arguing with Mr. and Mrs. Moon for making me act this way. Instead, I turn on a heel and stalk away from the table, through the hall. People turn and watch as I walk; they must have heard my tirade against Austin. I train my eyes on the heavy mahogany doors ahead of me.

'_Do not react. Harriet Tubman. Do not react. Harriet Tubman. Do not react._' I think.

I clench my jaw as I shove open the ballroom doors, letting the cold air flood in. A brisk gust blows past, whipping my hair and dress around. I walk out of the ballroom, into the parking lot, letting the heavy doors slam shut behind me.

I walk across the parking lot, onto the empty road.

"Austin freaking Moon." I mutter to myself as I walk along the side of the road. "How could I do that? I'm smarter than that. I know I am."

I take a deep breath. Cold air fills my lungs, biting into them. I rub my arms to keep away the cold. It doesn't work.

I keep walking for a quarter of a mile alongside the empty road. I hope I'm going the right way. I can barely see anything through the dark night. Only a few flickering, fading streetlamps shine above, making my trek that much harder. A few times I trip over ricks or roots I can't see and fall onto the gravel at the side of the road, but I get back up seconds later and continue on. I try to remember which way dad drove a couple of hours before, but I draw a blank.

"Ally!" I hear a voice call from behind me after the grueling quarter mile. I stop and turn around. I can just make out a tall figure through the shadows of night. "Wait up!"

"Leave me alone!" I shout to the tall figure. I turn around and keep walking. The footsteps behind me speed up, and in a few short minutes, they are right behind me. I stop walking and turn around again. The figure is right behind me, but still in the shadows, just out of the light of the streetlamp above me. "I said leave me alone!"

The figure takes a step into the light filtering through the streetlamp, and the first thing I see is a messy mop of blonde hair.

"What was that about?" Austin says.

"It was the truth." I say coldly. "I meant every word."

"No, you didn't." he says. He takes another step closer. He is only a few feet away, now. "You just said them."

"No, I meant them, Austin Moon!" I say, louder this time. "I hate you! You've made my life a living hell for the last six years, and I'm sick of it!"

He takes two steps closer. He is only half a foot away now. I can't hold down the grimace that has been fighting its way to the surface. "Are you sure that was it? It wasn't anything more?" there is something in his voice I can't pinpoint. A certain…softness to it that bugs me.

"Yes, I'm sure!" I shout. I step closer and raise my fists. "I hate you, Austin Moon!" I beat my tiny fists against his chest. "I hate you, I hate you, _I hate you!_"

He catches my flying fists. I struggle, trying to wrench my hands away, but he is too strong. "No, you don't." he sounds so calm.

"Yes, I do!" I shout again. "You think I'm a freak and a whore and I don't deserve to live, and you don't even know me!"

I struggle against him again, to no avail. "I don't think you're a whore." He murmurs. "I think you are a fine young woman."

And then I notice his face has been inching toward mine slowly, until he is only a few centimetres away. I freeze. "Yes you are. I hate you, Austin Moon. I hate you with a passion. Nothing will ever change that." I say in a low voice.

"No?" his voice is husky and deep. He inches closer again, and then stops when he is alarmingly close. My eyes droop closed. I can feel myself smile (sadly) at the feel of his warm breath tickling my lips.

Then I snap out of it.

"Go away." I move back, wrenching my hands out of his grip. When he doesn't move, I shove him away gruffly. "I said go away."

"Why? Because you're the complete opposite of all those rumors? As if." He shoots back. "You may not be a slut, but you are definitely a bitch and a know it all, and maybe _I _hate _you_."

"Of course, the second I don't do what you want, you throw a hissy fit and act like I just murdered your puppy Fernando!" I take a few steps back and scream.

"Fernando? Really? My puppy's name is Nitro!" he waves his hands in the air madly for effect.

"Oh, big difference! The moral of the story is that you are still a child, and you need to grow up and _leave me alone!_" that boy is getting on my very last nerve.

"_Fine!_" he screams. "From now on, I will never talk to you _ever again!_"

"_Good!_" I scream back.

"_Good!_" is his screamed response.

"_Fine!_"

"_Fine!_" and with that last screamed response, I turn and stomp away, continuing in the same direction as before, fuming. For once, I don't hear him follow.

Ω

I try to think back to how I got home, but I can't focus. That stupid Blondie keeps slipping into my mind, clouding my thoughts. '_I hate him._' I think bitterly. '_I absolutely, definitively hate him with the burning passion of a thousand fiery suns. I hate him._'

I lay back on my bed at around midnight, still in my dress. I have been in this position for the last hour, drowning in my own thoughts of bitterness and hatred. '_The boy I hate the most was almost my first kiss. I hate him._'

Half an hour before, mom had come into my room. She asked why I had blown up at dinner and run away. All I had to say was, "Austin freaking Moon."

She left after that, leaving me alone in the darkness of my room. '_I hate him._'

I run a hand through my hair, frustrated, and let the arm fall and drape over my eyes. I let myself wallow in my crazy, messed-up life. '_I hate him._'

I take a deep breath, and, just before I fall asleep lying on my bed, I murmur to myself in a softer tone than I want to, "Austin freaking Moon."

* * *

**So there's chapter three. As you can guess, it was my favorite to write. I just want to say, thanks you guys. This story has been...unbelievable. I have almost fifty reviews already! I went away for the weekend on Saturday and came back Monday (happy Canada Day, everyone!), and I had 50 alert e-mails waiting for me! They were fun to receive, but not so fun to sort through (it took over half an hour). So thanks. It's because of you guys that I keep writing. You really are my inspiration. Keep on reading. **

**To all the Anons, thanks for reviewing! To the Anon that said, "_I love that cliffhanger. I hope Austin finally realizes how beautiful Ally is on the next chapter. Please update soon!_" Thanks! And, as you can see, they are nowhere NEAR that point. **

**Keep on reading, guys. **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	4. Powerful Whiskey

Chapter four: Whiskey Is A Powerful Thing

* * *

"_I wish I was as invisible as you make me feel._"

-_Fallout Boy, The Pros and Cons Of Breathing _**[1]**_  
_

* * *

The next day is Friday; one more day until the salvage of the weekend. I walk through the front doors at 7:40 a.m., twenty minutes before school starts. I keep my eyes on the linoleum floor beneath me as I walk. I can feel the usual flocks of people staring at me as I walk through the halls, up the stairwell, and over to locker 2352. I see that the custodian has painted over the spray paint. I can tell because a few dried drops of paint are not smooth as they were before. I shake my head and open the locker. A note falls out of the locker. I don't look at it, just crumple it and throw it away like all the others. I turn to my locker and begin putting in my books for the day.

"Hey, Al-ly." A fun, singsong voice that nearly makes me vomit says behind my back. I roll my eyes. Austin's body slumps against the locker beside mine. "How was your night?" I look at him in a deathly manor. He flashes a cocky grin. "Mine was _fab_ulous. Of course, there was this one part where a girl who looked an _awful lot_ like you nearly kissed me. Care to comment?"

I look at him bleakly. "I thought you weren't going to talk to me anymore." I say.

"Ooh, avoiding the question are we?" he says. I slam my locker door shut and start walking to Am His. I hear his footsteps follow me.

"I'm not avoiding it. It's an absurd question. _You_ wanted to kiss _me_, but I try not to associate like _that_ with jackasses on your level." I say. He scoffs.

"Please. You would be lucky if I wanted to kiss you." He says.

"Can we not talk about this?" I turn the corner into the next hallway. This one is completely empty. Not a soul – or witness – in sight.

"Why not?" he says. All of a sudden, he grabs me by the wrist and twists me around, like the professional dancers do. My back hits the wall behind me with a thud. Austin's arms go on either side of me, and he leans forward, half smiling darkly. "Scared?"

I look anywhere except his eyes. "I'm never scared." I say. An obvious lie, since my voice falters uncertainly on the word "_never_".

He smiles again, laughing silently. "Are too." his voice is annoyingly husky again, like it was last night. I fight a grimace. Then, just like last night, he leans down slowly. For the first time, I look into his eyes. I am momentarily caught up in their colour. They are such a rich shade of hazel. Almost the colour of honey.

When he is inches away, my breath speeds up. Why – I don't want to know. But I don't like it. I can't breathe properly. I try to, but a white buzz is going through my brain, making it impossible for me to think. He leans down even further, and I make a snap decision. I duck down and to the side, out from the prison of his arms. I had been fighting down a blush, but the second I turn my back to him, the blush surfaces on my cheeks. I curse myself and walk briskly down the hall. For once, I don't hear him follow.

I rush down the hallway, and turn to the right. This hallway is thankfully swarming with people talking, walking, studying for homeroom tests, anything. For once in my life, I am thankful that people are around, even though they stare and snigger at me as I pass. '_Don't look at them._' I have to remind myself, like every other day. '_Don't look at them, and they won't notice you._' I know this is a complete lie. They notice me anyways. How could they not? I stick out like a sore thumb, with my dark hair in a school full of blonde Florida girls, and that look in my eye mom says is always there. The look that says that I'm not afraid to take someone down with my intellect. My clothes stick out, too. My skirts are always plain, and my blouses are baggy around my torso.

That's why I keep my eyes down.

They think it's my fault I'm like this.

I walk down the hallway, into the Am His classroom. Ms. Lewis is already sitting at her desk, going through a stack of tests. I smile at her as I pass.

"Good morning Ally. How did you sleep?" he asks without looking up.

"I…don't know. I just…" I shake my head, speaking in a tiny, quavering voice. "Don't."

She looks up now, looking befuddled. "What happened?"

I think about telling her what happened last night and just a few moments ago, but when I open my mouth to speak, all that comes out is a small crack. I slap my hand over my mouth, turn around, and half run to my seat in the back corner. I take my seat, and force my eyes to follow the grain of the wood. I don't want to look up; I know Ms. Lewis is staring at me, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

Soon, other students file into the classroom, and take their seats.

'_And so begins another day of torture…_' I think to myself wryly.

The class starts five minutes later with Ms. Lewis introducing a research project on the civil war. She says we're supposed to choose one battle and write a five page report on it. After that, she goes into the specifics while she's passing out the rubrics. I quickly tune out and start tapping my pencil on the desktop. Before I can think about it, the tune morphs into a new tune I don't know. I quickly write the notes down on the rubric as they come into my head. After I finish, I read them over. A, G flat, B major, C sharp, F. **[2]**

I smile to myself. I love music. I love it more than anything. That's why I'm majoring in music, and not psychology, like dad wants me to. He wants me to be a shrink, but I want to be a songwriter. No, I want to be _the_ songwriter. I want to write the songs kids sing on a daily basis, but never get tired of. I will be that famous songwriter.

I know it.

Ω

The day is eerily quiet. I hate it, even more than any other day. At least on the other days, I know it's coming. But today? I have no idea who will ridicule me next, or how I will be embarrassed next, or even when I will run into the girl's bathroom next, crying.

I hate it.

During lunch, I sit on top of the monkey bars like any other day. My hands are gripped so tightly on the metal, my hands are white. I rack my brain, trying to pinpoint an event in my day that would suggest what's going to happen next. But I can't think of anything except what happened earlier this morning, in the hallway. I wonder why he tried to scare me…like _that_. I mean, he's not wrong. That did scare me. It terrified me.

I run a hand through my hair exasperatedly. '_Why am I still thinking about this?_' I think. '_Okay, I'm going to have to stop talking to myself soon._'

I lean back on the monkey bars and watch the clouds swirl overhead. They take shapes in the blue sky. I can see…a car…a train…a bunny on a bicycle. I smile at the bunny on the bicycle. How absurd…

For a moment – just a moment – I'm completely serene. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill my lungs, and smile. A real smile. One I can't show at school. It feels nice to be alone, out in the sunshine, revelling in the beautiful day out.

"Al-ly." That stupid skip in my name comes from below me. Correction – it _did_ feel nice. I scowl.

"Go away." I say. Well, I snap it, really.

"Ooh, feisty." He says in a playful tone. I feel the weight of the monkey bars shift, and another body plop down beside me. I open my eyes to see Blondie leaning over me, smiling.

I gasp dramatically. "I'm terribly sorry. I meant go away, jackass." I said the last word harshly.

"Now, now, don't be so mean." His bottom lip pouts out.

"You're right. After six years of you being a complete and utter ass to me, I should really have been more polite to you."

"Exactly." He leans back and lies down beside me on the metal bars. I roll my eyes.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" I say. "Or go to hell. Yes, I think I like the latter better."

"Well, I don't know what ladders have to with this, but that is _so_ rude!" he's being sincere.

"It was only rude because a person like you doesn't deserve niceties." I sit up on the monkey bars and slide off them. The lunch period should be over soon. I start walking away, but the sound of ripped jeans sliding off metal bars stops me.

"It is amazing how a person like you acts like she is such an amazing, delightful little fairy princess of a person, when all you are is a bitter old hag with a sack o' cats and a horrible attitude." He says. I turn around to face him. The wind suddenly picks up, making my hair whip around my shoulders, and probably making me look scarier than I even feel.

"I am surprised a dimwit like you knows such a big word like 'delightful'." I plant my hands on my hips. He steps toward me menacingly. His honey coloured eyes seem to shift a few shades darker. For some reason, I notice how they look the colour of whiskey now.

Don't ask. I don't even know.

"And I'm surprised a hag like you can have such a big ego in such a tiny body." He says, his newly coloured whiskey eyes flash dangerously.

"Austin Moon, why can't you just leave me alone!" I shriek. He doesn't say anything, just clamps his jaw stubbornly. He looks beyond mad, but the whiskey eyes tell another story; the colour is subsiding back to honey.

He steps forward again; he is only half a foot away now. He leans down, and I am just about to side step and punch him in the neck, when his lips catch my cheek. Not my lips, no. He kisses my cheek. It's just a small peck – not even two seconds – but of course, I'm Allyson Elizabeth Dawson. I'm not allowed to react normally to anything.

I freeze, every muscle in my body clamped tight. My eyes defocus, and my brain stops registering events for a second. I stop noticing the wind as it picks up or the clods as they swirl overhead and threaten to spill at any moment. Instead, I notice…_him_. I watch as he turns away and his eyes flash whiskey again, before fully returning to honey. Then, he stalks across the park abruptly, his hands shoved deep in his jeans pockets, like all he wants to do is shoot someone. Honestly, it scares me.

I'm scared.

Me, Allyson Elizabeth Dawson.

I'm scared.

When he is finally fully out of sight, I let out a deep breath and run a hand through my hair again. I don't know what to do know – it's an odd predicament I'm in. one I never ever thought I would _ever_ be in.

As I let out the breath, three evil, foul tasting words slip from my lips and out into the world. They make me cringe and nearly vomit.

"Austin freaking Moon."

* * *

**A/N:**

**[1]: Don't hold me to this. I'm not entirely sure it was Fallout Boy first.  
[2]: I don't know musical notes, so I just used random letters and added "major" and "minor" to some of them. **

**So what do you guys think? I was _really_ tempted to make Austin miss her cheek, if you know what I mean, but it was too early in the story. THANK YOU for the reviews! I'm almost at eighty! For just three chapters! You guys are all awesome. **

**Notes!:**

-"Could you please answer this because I love your story and it's kind of hard to read it when I keep having this question in mind: Is Ally a virgin?" **Yes, Ally is a virgin. If you remember in chapter three, she says that Austin was almost her first kiss. The rumors of her being promiscuous are just that: rumors. Thanks!  
**-"I love this story so much! You are one talented author :D Why is Austin so mean to Ally if he is (kind-of-in-a-way) attracted to her? But anyway please update soon and I can't sleep thinking about this story!" **Austin is mean to her because, well, there are two reasons. One: the obvious reason: why the hell not? Two: the psychological reason: He is an immature man-child that lashes out verbally when his feelings don't make sense. Thank you!  
**-Musiclover150: **Thank you! Why can't I PM you? I want to thank you in person (somewhat in person, I guess). Thanks!  
**-DisneychannelwatcherWow: **Exactly. But, we'll see if Austin hates Ally. I wish they could have kissed, too, but no. It would not have benefited the story, so, we still have to wait for it. But when it comes, it will be BIG.**

**Thank you to all the Anons who reviewed, and please keep at it. Keep on reading, guys. **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	5. Apologizing Like A Sir

Chapter five: Apologizing Like A Sir

* * *

"_If invisible people eat invisible food does invisible wind blow invisible trees?_"

― _Cecelia Ahern, If You Could See Me Now_

* * *

I end up having to run to biology. I make it into the classroom just before the teacher comes in. I take my seat at the first empty seat I see; an empty chair beside a tall Korean boy reading a book in the front.

"Hi." I say breathlessly. "It's it cool if I sit here?" the boy looks up from his book. He smiles ghostly.

"Sure." He says politely. "I'm Ethan. Ethan Garriwick." He holds out his hand to me. I shake it.

"Ally Dawson." I say. His eyes darken slightly, from their old shade of a dull blue to a duller, grayer looking colour of blue. "What?" I ask. His lips press into a straight, determined line.

After a second, he mutters, "I've heard of you." I freeze. What has he heard? Anything good, anything bad?

"E-excuse me?" I stutter slightly, sadly tripping over myself. I notice that, despite the fact that he looks full Korean, he has no accent. It's odd.

"I've heard of you." He repeats, a little more confidently. He turns to the front, where the hawk like teacher is explaining again how to properly extract a heart from a fetal pig.

"You mean the rumors?" I say, ignoring the teacher.

Ethan quirks a half smile, refusing to look at me. "Ally, everyone's heard those rumors." He turns his head to me slightly. "I meant what you did yesterday; telling off Austin Moon."

My cheeks redden. "Oh…" I look down at my binder open to a blank page on the work table. "I…I shouldn't have done that." My eyes follow the lines on my college ruled paper.

Ethan chuckles lowly. "Are you kidding? It was awesome. Someone had to take knock ass down a peg sooner or later."

I look up at him questioningly. For the first time, he is facing me full on. I can see his face fully. He has a slightly chubby, baby face that goes nicely with his eyes. His lips are full and pinkish, set in a determined, pressed straight line. His hair is a kind of reddish auburn colour that sticks up at the front, off his golden forehead. He is handsome in the sense that he kind of looks like a Korean cherub.

"Really?" I say. His eyes brighten to watery blue.

"Yeah. He may be a fine piece of boy," he says whimsically, looking off to somewhere I probably didn't want to see. After a second, he shakes his head and turns back to me. "But he's a jackass. No amount of cuteness is enough to excuse his attitude."

"His…cuteness…?" I repeat. "You're…"

"Gay." He nods. His cheeks turn pinkish. I clear my throat.

"Okay." I say, shrugging. He looks like he's about to say something more, but decides against it and turns back to his book. I catch sight of a few words on the yellowed page. '_For I ne'er saw true beauty, 'till this night._' I knew those words… _Romeo and Juliet_, Act 1 Scene 5. Romeo.

He's reading _Romeo and Juliet_ voluntarily; grade twelves read _Twelfth Night_ for their Shakespearian unit in English. Man, he would be the perfect guy if he wasn't gay… I shake my head and turn back to the teacher.

"Get a good look at the person you share a worktable with, class." The teacher, Mrs. Benson says. I look to Ethan quickly. He pays no attention to the teacher. "These will be your lab partners for the next semester." I nod. Ethan looks up now. He nods to me and turns back to _Romeo and Juliet_. "Now class, please come up to collect your supplies for the dissection."

Ethan bookmarks his book, slips it into his bag and turns to me. "Ready, lab partner?" he says.

"Let's dissect this fetal pig." I say, nodding. Even though the thought makes me sick to my stomach, I feel relatively sure that I can do this. But no matter how many reassuring smiles Ethan flashes me, there was still a tiny part in my brain that kept screaming '_Flee! Flee! Fleeee!_'

It sounds like the same voice in my head that screams whenever I see Blondie.

Ω

I do end up being sick to my stomach today. As soon as I make the first incision in the pig's abdomen, I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop from vomiting all over Ethan. Instead, I let him take over, and settle for instructing him on how to properly extract the heart.

After seventy minutes, Mrs. Benson barks at us to clean up and (and I quote) "Get out of her face". I don't know how a spiteful lady like her is married. I wave bye to Ethan after we have cleaned up, and walk out of the class. I walk through the halls towards calculus. For some reason, I can't help but keep glancing over my shoulder as I walk. I keep thinking Blondie will sneak up on me, but I haven't seen him since… the park…

I walk into calculus minutes before the teacher does. I sit down at my desk and smile over at Lauren beside me. She smiles back and tosses a piece of folded paper onto my desk in front of me. I pick it up and read it, strangely scared to see what is going to be written on this note. '_Thank you for the help yesterday. I take my SATs next week. Thanks. –Lauren Niles_'

I look up from the note over to Lauren. She has her eyes trained on her textbook and open binder, so she doesn't look up. I can't help but smile at her, even though she isn't looking; it's not often someone is nice to me.

Ω

I walk through the front door of our two storey house, calling "Mom?" as I do so.

"Ally?" mom calls from inside the house. It sounds like she's in the kitchen. "Is that you?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes and say, '_of course not. It's her long lost twin, Laura Marano. Oh, how I've missed you so, mother!_' but I don't. Instead, I call back, "Yeah, mom!"

I drop my bag on the floor by the coat closet, and walk down the hall to the kitchen. I turn into the brightly lit kitchen to see mom sitting at the three person kitchen table against the wall. He sits, her fingers curled around what is probably her fifth cup of coffee today. She's a bit of a caffeine junky.

"How was school?" She says.

'_Fantabulous!_' my mind automatically answers in a very sarcastic way. I push that down and smile curtly. "Not bad. I almost threw up in biology." I shrug. She nods and takes a sip of her coffee.

"Sit down." She says. Her face falls into seriousness. I don't need to be a genius to know what's coming next. I sit down across from her. "What happened last night, Allyson?"

Big surprise.

I put on my most polite face I can. "What do you mean?"

Mom narrows her eyes. "Allyson, I think we both know you are literally incapable of playing dumb." I freeze. She has me there. "What happened last night with your little tirade against that Moon boy?"

I meet her eyes. They are blank and listless, like they always are after her third cup of coffee. Nevertheless, they are the same rich brown that scared the bejesus out of me when I was five. Heck, they still scare the bejesus out of me. "I…don't know." I shake my head. "I really don't. I got mad at him, and I lost it."

"Was there a reason?" she takes another sip of her coffee.

I thought for a moment. Of course there was a reason. There were multiple reasons. He's an ass, he's my terrorizer, he may or may not think I am a slut, he keeps trying to kiss me, he _did_ kiss me, and I repeat, he is an ass. Could I tell her this? No. "No…I don't think so."

She sets the mug of coffee on the table. "Then I would like you to go over to the Moon's house and apologize to Austin for snapping _and_ to his parents for snapping at their son."

"What!" I nearly shriek. "There is no way I'm –"

"This is not up for discussion, Allyson." Mom cuts me off calmly. But her eyes tell a different story. She is looking at me like she did when I was seven and made a 3D model of DNA out of dad's ties. She is looking at me like I'm a kid again. "You acted immaturely and rudely, and so you will go over to the Moon's house and you will apologize, and that's _that_!"

The look in her eye tells me that trying to argue any further would get me a one way ticket to hell. Not heaven, no, mom wouldn't have that. She'd made a bet with God and get me sent to hell when she won.

Ω

Twenty minutes later, I stand at the door of Blondie's house, mentally plotting how to kill mom in inventive ways, using several different types of unicorns, a double bacon cheeseburger, and a side of fries.

I take a deep breath, and steel my nerves for what I am about to see. I raise my arm and wrap the wooden painted blue door of the two storey house of my arch nemesis. I step back and wait for a second before the door opens, revealing Blondie himself behind the door carrying a little girl about four in his arms. His eyes bulge when he sees me.

The little girl looks at me and smiles broadly, making her sharp cheekbones look softer and her curling blonde hair shinier.

"I'm Kate." She says happily. "You're pretty." I blush for some reason.

I look at Blondie. He is still staring at me like I'm a ghost. I bet he's thinking he wishes I _was_ a ghost and not me. He turns to the little girl with her small arms wrapped around his neck. "Kate, go play with your toys."

"But I wanna stay with the pretty girl." Kate argues, smiling at Blondie. "What's your name?" she sounds so gleeful, even in the presence of the devil's spawn.

"I'm Ally." I say.

"Kate," Blondie repeats. "Please go play with your toys."

Kate rolls her honey coloured eyes. "Fine." She grumbles. Blondie sets her down on the wooden floor, and she runs away on her tiny legs, giggling.

Blondie smiles at Kate as she runs through the house, then turns back to me, his smile immediately turning to scowl. "What do you want?" he spits.

I clear my throat. "I am here to apologize for my reprehensible behaviour last night." I say tersely. "It was wrong of me, and I'm sorry."

Blondie looks at me surprised. Like, _really_ surprised. Like I just flashed him. His eyes don't look like honey now; they look more like apple juice. "Your mom is making you do this isn't she?"

I fold my hands behind my back. "She is indeed. She is also making me apologize to your parents, so…may I come in?" I raise an eyebrow.

Blondie runs a hand through his hair, letting out a slow breath. After a second, he steps aside and gestures for me to come in. I step into the house and look around. It's a nice, warmly lit house. A little messy here and there; Barbies make a small pile in one of the corners of the attached living room. Coats hang on top of each other on hooks hanging on the wall.

"Mom?" Blondie calls down the front hall. He starts walking down the hall, and I follow.

"Yeah, Austin?" a woman's voice calls back from the end of the hallway.

"There's someone here to see you." Blondie and I reach the end of the hallway. He steps through the doorway on the left, and I follow a second later. We step into a large kitchen, where a short, unkempt looking woman is zipping around the counters, and cooking food in nanoseconds. The woman stops cooking and turns to us. I see her fully now. Her impossibly deep blue eyes are tired looking, and look from Blondie to rest on me.

She narrows her eyes. I clear my throat before she can say anything, because I know she remembers me. "I'm sorry to come by unannounced, Mrs. Moon, but I wanted to apologize for my behaviour last night."

Mrs. Moon wipes her hands on her flowery apron. "That's quite alright, Ally." She says. I can hear the tension in her voice still.

"No, it's not. I disrespected your son, and I disrespected you, and I'm sorry." I bow my head and wait for her to explode. But she doesn't.

Instead, she takes a step towards me and wraps me in a tight hug. I'm shocked into paralysis. The hug only lasts a second before she lets me go and sits down at the nearby table. "Thank you for apologizing Ally. It takes a real adult to come here and apologize." She folds her hands on the table top, wringing them together nervously. I wonder why she looks so nervous; her deep blue eyes look like they're on the brink. "Florida State will be lucky to have you."

"Thank you." I nod. "I'm really excited to go."

"Won't you miss your family?" she asks. "And I'm sure you'll miss seeing Austin every day." Austin glares at her. She just smiles brightly at him and turns to me.

I laugh. "Yes, I do think I will miss seeing your delightful son every day." I say jokingly. She thankfully laughs and waves for me to take a seat across from her. I oblige. "No, in all fairness, I will miss my family. Tallahassee is a long way away, but," I shrug. "I can't miss this opportunity."

She nods. "I know what you mean. I used to live in Melbourne, and when I graduated, I got a full scholarship to the University of Miami. I had to make a choice; my family, or my dream university."

"Exactly. My dad wants me to go to Miami U, but I can't pass up the scholarship to Florida State." I say excitedly. Mrs. Moon smiles.

"I like you, Ally." She says earnestly. "I hope you rub off on Austin. He still has the silly delusion that he'll be an overnight internet sensation or whatever." She laughs at the idea and shakes her hands madly for emphasis.

"Hey, it could happen!" Austin says indignantly from his position on the counter. I look at him. He looks completely serious, like he did last night, when he said he wanted to be a rockstar.

"Austin, sweetie, get off the counter." His mom chides him. He scowls and hops of the counter. I smile smugly at him. He sticks out his tongue.

"Ally!" a happy, high, singsong voice says behind me. Someone attacks my chair and wraps her tiny arms around the back in an attempt at a hug.

Mrs. Moon smiles and says compassionately, "Kate, please don't attack Ally."

"It's alright." I say. I turn around and lift Kate up from the floor and sit her on my lap. She claps happily, her dimples apparent in her chubby cheeks. I hug Kate tightly, smiling. "I love kids. Especially adorable ones like Kate. Is Kate short for anything?" I look up to Mrs. Moon, who is beaming at her daughter.

"Katrina." Austin says from the counter. "As in Van Tassel." He walks over to the table, smiling at Kate.

"From the Legend of Sleepy Hollow?" I ask Mrs. Moon.

"Exactly." She nods. "I love that story." Her eyes daze for a moment, as she probably thinks about her favourite lines from the story.

"Me too!" I'm on cloud nine right now I'm so happy. No one reads Washington Irving nowadays. "_'Others may write from the head, but he writes from the heart, and the heart will always understand him.'_ Irving's one of my favourite authors. It's so hard to find a good, thoughtful author these days. It's always, '_oh, he's a vampire, I must sleep with him; it's true love!_'" I roll my eyes. Mrs. Moon laughs in a tinkling way that seems to brighten the room.

"Mommy, can Ally stay for dinner?" Kate asks from my lap.

"That is an excellent idea, Kate." Mrs. Moon looks from her daughter to me. "Ally, would you like to stay for dinner?"

"You know, I would love to." I say. "It would give me a chance to rack your brain for any other favourite authors of yours."

Mrs. Moon's tinkling laugh fills the room again. "Jane Austen. Definitely loved _Pride and Prejudice_."

Ω

Dinner at the Moon's was much more fun than I thought it would be. And for the record, I already thought it would be awesome. Mrs. Moon (Teresa, as she told me over and over again to call her) and I nattered throughout the entire meal about different books we'd both read. By the end of the meal, I had a lengthy list of new books to read programmed into my phone.

The only downside was Austin glaring at me periodically throughout the meal and letting his now whiskey coloured eyes fall to his mashed potatoes. He didn't say anything the entire dinner, but when Teresa asked him what was wrong, he just dropped his fork onto his half empty plate, mumbled something about his phone ringing, and left. Teresa scowled after her son and said, "That boy. I don't know what to do with him."

Also during the dinner, I met Mr. Moon formally, or Thomas, as he told me to call him. He was a nice man. A little quiet and seclusive, but all around a nice man. He had the same honey coloured eyes as his sin, but a hell of a nicer expression than him. He told me about his job at the manufacturing company where he and my dad both work side by side. The company manufactures and distributes instruments to different music stores across Florida. He told me about how he wanted to save up and buy his own music store, though. He already knew what he wanted to call it; Sonic Boom.

It was fascinating to sit in on another family's dinner, so unlike my own. At my house, I usually end up eating up in my room to get away from the awkward silence of our meals. But the Moons clearly didn't believe in awkward silence. They were loud and jolly to the point that I thought they were all part Santa. It was refreshing.

And then I had to go home.

I don't want to go home, but mom keeps texting me to come home "before the hoodlums come out" (her words, not mine). Finally, I give in and text back "Be home in 20" and tell Thomas and Teresa I should go. Thomas argues that I should let him drive me home. When I tell him that it's not far, he says that at least I should let Austin walk me home, or I would surely get mugged at this late hour (8:30). I desperately want to decline the offer and walk home alone, but he is very insistent with it.

Teresa calls her son down from his room to walk me down, and for a second, I think he is about to argue with her orders, but he must be more scared of his mom than I thought, because he says nothing. He just scowls with his hands dug deep in his pockets, and grumbles at me to hurry. I thank Thomas and Teresa, kiss Kate's chubby cheek and ruffle her golden hair, and follow Austin out the door.

I shut the front door behind me and turn around to see Austin already in front of the next house. I have to run to catch up to him. When I do, I fall into stride beside him, and we walk in silence for the rest of the street.

Until he broke the silence. "How do you do it?" he says without looking at me. I look up at him. Shadows are cast all over his face, making it hard to make out, but his honey eyes shine through the dark shadows.

"Do what?" I ask.

"Talk with mom like that; how do you do it?" he looks down to me now. His face is blank and expressionless. I try to read some part of it, but I can't. His poker face is astounding.

"I don't know. I just talk about things we both like." I shrug.

We turn the corner onto the next street, and lapse in silence again.

"I've tried to read the books she likes, but I have to struggle through a paragraph." He says. "They make no sense. Like I'm reading Greek."

"'_You get a little moody sometimes but I think that's because you like to read. People that like to read are always a little fucked up._'" I smile to myself.

"Excuse me?" Austin raises an eyebrow.

"Pat Conroy said it in _The Prince of Tides_." I say. "It means that you should be lucky. Your mom and I read, so we'll always be messed up."

Austin chuckles lowly. "How are you so smart?"

"Was that… almost a compliment?" I nudge his arm lightly. His eyes flash whiskey and I think I've gone too far, but they return to honey a second later.

"Almost." He says jokingly. "Consider yourself lucky, Al-ly." He nudges my arm back lightly. "I don't almost compliment anyone."

"I got that from the six years of torture under my belt." As soon as I say the words, his face turns stony, and he looks ahead again. I fold my hands behind my back and twiddle my thumbs nervously. I have the nagging impulse to grab a chunk of hair and chew it, I but I figure that would be a little too strange.

"Just…out of curiosity, why are you such an ass to me?" I have to fight to keep the nervousness out of my voice.

He doesn't answer right away, just keeps walking in his tense way that seems even tenser now. "I…" he clears his throat. "Don't ask."

My hands tighten behind my back. I rub my knuckles with my finger pads, trying not to punch him. "Fine. Whatever. Just thought that there was a little rhyme or reason to your torture."

"Hey, I do not torture you!" he says indignantly. "If anything, I drive you mad with my rugged good looks." He takes a hand out of his pocket and strokes his jaw bone. For some reason, I find myself giggling at that. My cheeks flush with colour.

"But you so do torture me." I rub the back of my neck with a hand. "And you're a total jackass about it."

Then suddenly, he stops walking and catches me by the scruff of my shirt. He twirls me around to face him, and catches me by the waist.

His half-smile makes my toes turn to ice. "Do you even remember how this little back and forth started between us?"

"Of course I do." I try not to spit the words, but I can't help it; the venom slips out. He winces against it. "I'm a freaking genius."

His eyelids lower, so he is looking at me through his long golden lashes. Then, I do something I never ever thought I would do in a million years, no matter how pretty his eyes look in the moonlight.

Wait…

W…what did I just…think…?

Anyways, that can wait!

I cup his cheeks in my hand and rise up to my tip toes so our faces our level. His eyes glint whiskey for a second, and I think he is about to slap me, but instead, he draws my face closer to his. Our faces are so close, our noses nearly brush together. My cheeks are fully blazing crimson now, I know that for a fact, but I just set my eyes determinedly, and try not to think about a haunting memory. But I can't help it. The memory comes up.

I'm nine years old, and I've just been placed in advanced classes that day…

**-**_**Flashback!**_**-**

_I'm nine years old, bright eyed and beaming. My new advanced textbooks are clutched tight to my chest as I walk away from the elementary school. I walk along the school's muddy field; it rained the night before, leaving puddles of mud all around the grass. It was my first day in the new classes, and honestly, I consider it to be the best day of my life. _

_Well, as Isaac Newton said, what comes up must come down. _

"_Hey, Al-ly!" a happy go lucky voice says from behind me. I turn and smile at the three boys all in a line behind me. The one who called me is a lanky blonde boy in the middle, smirking. "How were your classes?" _

"_Fantastic, thank you." I say, smiling more broadly. _

"_What do you do in them?" he asks. _

_I furrow my brows. "I learn in my classes, just like you do." _

_The blonde laughs and his friends snigger along with him. "I just figured since your classes are for freaks like you, you'd do things differently." _

_I frown. "But I'm not a freak. Why would you say something like that?" _

"_Because it's true." The blonde laughs again. He walks past me and, as he does, he pushes me. I fall back into a puddle of mud on the ground behind me. Mud gets all over my jeans and shirt, and gets in my hair. My textbooks fall from my arms and splash in the mud. I know without checking that they're ruined. Tears brim in my eyes and spill over my cheeks as I watch the three boys strut past me, laughing their heads off. _

_I sniffle out six words as I push myself up and collect the ruined textbooks. "I don't like you, Austin Moon." _

**-**_**Back to the Future!**_**-**

That torrid memory sobers me up. I let go of his cheeks and rip his hands from my waist and push him away. I turn back around and start walking in the direction of my house, twiddling my thumbs together nervously. I keep my eyes on the pavement sidewalk beneath me as I walk.

After a second, I hear his sneakers pad across the pavement, following me. I grimace at the sound. I have to bite down on my tongue to stop myself from saying something I'd have to apologize for later. I keep walking.

In a matter of minutes, Austin falls into stride beside me, silent. We don't talk for the next ten minutes until we reach my house.

I look up at the house. I've lived in this house from the day I was born. It's the house where I rode my sled off the roof of the garage and broke my arm in three different places when I was seven. I can still remember mom scowling at me the entire ambulance ride to the hospital. I can't help but flinch when I see the dent in the aluminum flamingo on the front lawn where I hit my arm.

I shake my head and walk to the front door. I'm shocked to hear Austin's footsteps following behind me. At the door, I turn around and look at him just before I step into the house. He's standing a foot behind me, blank faced, with his hands dug into his pockets again. His hair looks silver in the milky moonlight, and his skin deathly pale.

"T-thanks for walking me home." I say, my voice quivering. He nods, bows his head and turns around, walking away. He stops in his stride and turns his head a bit go he catches my gaze in the corner of his eye.

"Your hair always looked pretty." He says. He continues to walk down the pathway that leads to driveway. I watch him until he disappears behind the garage and I can no longer see him. I shake my head at his shadow as it travels down the asphalt of our drive way.

A little voice mutters softly in the back of my mind as I walk into the house, '_Austin freaking Moon._'

* * *

**So there was the first time Austin ever made fun of Ally. And THANK YOU! I have ONE freaking HUNDRED reviews! You guys are awesome. Y'know, give yourselves a hand, you really deserve it. **

**Notes!:**

-startrekwarrior12: **Congratulations, you were the hundredth reviewer! Thanks! To answer your question: in this chapter, when Austin says "Your hair always looked pretty", you can kind of consider it an answer to Ally's question of why he always tortured her, I guess. You'll have to wait to see if he is a *_ehem_* _player_. Again, you'll just have to wait to see if he's just getting in her pants or not. Thanks!  
**-"Why did the rumors even start? Please answer :)" **Answered! The rumors and taunting all started when she was put in advanced classes. Thanks!  
-**Dimples: **Why thank you! I do love my colourful vernacular. I didn't want to say that they're immediately in love because, sadly, life doesn't happen like that :( Thank you! **

**Thanks to all the Anons who reviewed and asked questions! If you guys do have questions, one: wait (Cezar, that mean's you) or two: ask! Ask away! I love answering them! Keep on reading guys! **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	6. The Double Takes of Biology Class

Chapter six: The Double Takes of Biology Class

* * *

"_You're too good for this world, and because of that the world will eventually crush you."_

― _Paul Auster, Invisible_

* * *

The weekend seems to drag on and on and on and _on_. I spend most of my time in my room, playing on my computer, working on my portfolio for Florida State, and writing a new song on the rickety old piano I have in the corner.

The portfolio is easy; all I have to do was write a five thousand plus word essay on a topic of my choice (I chose fairness) and fill out a questionnaire kind of form.

The song is the part I can't get right. Every time I think I'm getting close to a breakthrough in the melody or the lyrics, they disappear, and I can't think of anything better than '_Na na nanana na na nanana._' It's frustrating to say the least. By the end of Sunday, I've thrown my pencil against my frilly pink wall six times and my book at least ten. It's no wonder the book is so beaten up; this is not the first time a song has frustrated me.

But for once, it's not just the song that has me baffled. It's that damn Austin, and what he said on Friday. "_Your hair always looked pretty._" What is that even supposed to _mean_? Every time any thoughts of him or Friday night slip into my mind, I seriously consider bashing my head against the wall to knock them out. Once, I consider asking Austin about what he meant on Monday, but I quickly dismiss the idea when I think of that stupid smug grin I know he'd get when I tell him he has me _this_ confused. And believe me, the grin is plenty smug.

Just like him.

Ω

By the time I walk through the front doors of C.S. Lewis on Monday, I've practically gone out of my mind with confusion. I walk to my locker almost numbly, and open the door. For the first time in a long time, no note falls to my feet as the door opens. I scowl at this; now I have to wait to see what kind of torture is in store for me today.

I shove my books into my bag, and start to make my way to Am His. I walk with my eyes to the floor beneath me, but it takes a minute for me to realize: no one is looking at me. I can't hear the whispers I've become accustomed to over the past six years. The dirty glares no longer bore into my skin like knives. The tripping feet are missing from my path. There's not even the rhythmic footsteps behind me, telling me I am about to be tormented by Austin again.

I nearly go into a panic attack right here and now, but I can't. The last time I did that, people called me "cry baby" for six months straight. One of the teachers even called me that. Needless to say; that period was one of the more down points of my life.

Instead, I just keep my eyes to my shoes and walk into the dark Am His classroom. I flick on the lights and look around. The clock says I have half an hour before even Ms. Lewis will come. I sigh and drop my bag beside my desk before pulling out my songbook. I slump down in my desk and begin doodling words.

But I didn't know what to write about. Writing reflects what people really feel, and how they really view the world. But how do I see the world? Well, for starters, no one sees me. They don't even know my real name.

'_You don't know, know, know my name, name, name._' I write at the top of the page. But now what? They don't know my name. I start to wonder what they would say if they saw me in the future as one of the world's most famous songwriters. _That_ would certainly make them do a double take.

'_I'm gonna make, make, make, you do a double take._' I write beneath the line. I smile at the lines. I have no idea what comes next, but for now, they words I have written are golden.

I turn to a fresh page and start writing whatever I feel like.

_I don't know what to do right now. No one has made fun of me since Friday. It's unnerving. I think I kind of wish…they would say something – anything – to me, just so I don't have to wait around, paranoid for the rest of my life. _

_I think I made a new friend on Friday. Ethan Garriwick. He's nice, and he doesn't like Austin either. He said it was awesome how I snapped at Austin on Thursday. Mrs. Benson made us lab partners in biology, so at least I won't have to suffer with someone who hates me like last year. I still have the nightmares of Jemmie. I don't think I'll ever miss her. _

_On a lesser note, Austin said something…odd to me on Friday. He said not to ask why he torments me. But I can't figure out why? What could he have against me? Or does it have to do with the fact that he is just a grumpy little child that likes to throw hissy fits? It makes sense that way, but I can't help but think there's something…more to it than meets the eye. Something he doesn't want me to know. It's aggravating. _

"Yes, I'm the aggravating one here." A snide voice says in my ear. I jump out of my skin, jerking back. I steeled my gaze and glared at Austin, who was smirking, kneeling on the ground beside my chair. My heart hammers against my ribcage audibly.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" I say, trying to slow my heart rate to normal levels.

"Is that a trick question?" he raises an eyebrow. "It's school."

"You know what I mean?" I snap. "We still have –" I check the clock. It says 7:45. "Fifteen minutes until school starts. Don't you have a girl to screw over or something?"

"Aren't we being a little hasty to get rid of me?" his face is smug again. I have to ball my hands into fists to keep from wiping the snugness off it with a slap.

"Whatever. What do you want?" I say. I close my songbook and slip it into the bag at my feet.

"I came to ask about that book you were talking to my mom about on Friday." His voice is hushed; like he's afraid someone will hear him, even though we're alone.

"You mean the Legend of Sleepy Hollow?" I ask. He nods. I take out a little sticky note from my bag, a pen and scribble down the information. "Washington Irving. Published in 1820." I rip off the sticky note and hand it to him. "Why do you want it?"

He takes the sticky note and stuffs it into his jeans pocket. "No reason." He mumbles. His face is somber and resigned, and his eyes are back to the stupid colour of whiskey. I'm really getting sick of that shade.

In a second, he blinks it away, and his face returns to its former smugness. "What were you writing?"

"Nothing." My foot moves closer to my bag protectively by instinct.

"No, it was definitely something." He says. "It went something like…they wanna know, know, know my name, name, name. You gotta make, make, make 'em do a double take." He recites the lyrics like they are limericks off the top of his head. I stare at him, stunned. Even though the words were completely wrong, they still bore some resemblance to what I had written.

"What of it?" my voice quavers. My eyes slip to the bag beside my feet almost reflexively. Unfortunately, Austin catches this movement. His hand snaps into my bag and closes around the leather book before I can react. He takes it out of my bag with an amused smile on his face. I push myself out of my chair, my fists balled at my sides, and fix my lips in a tight line.

"Give it back." I demand feebly. He ignores me and opens my book and begins to read. I reach for the book, but he moves it out of my reach and continues to read. He flips the page, and his smile broadens.

"C'mon, give it back!" I demand more intensely. I snatch for the book again. This time, he steps onto my chair and holds the book higher, out of my reach. I jump for it. "Give it _back_!"

"Austin, what are you doing?" the stern voice of Ms. Lewis says calmly behind us. I stop jumping and turn to her. Austin looks up from my book, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"N-nothing." He says a little too quickly. He snaps my book closed and hands it down to me. "I was just helping young Allyson her with her grammar." He steps down from the chair, grinning evilly at me. "By the way, there are two 'l's in the word 'installment'."

I hug the book close to my chest and give him an annoyed look. "I-N-S-T-A-L-L-M-E-N-T." I spell out clearly.

"You're welcome." He winks, making my stomach churn. He strolls over to his desk in the front of the class and sits down. Ms. Lewis gives me an encouraging smile before returning to her desk to mark tests.

I sit back down in my chair and glare at the back of his head. But I can't help but wonder why he wanted the info on The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I push it out of my mind for now. As Benjamin Franklin once said, "_If you would not be forgotten, as soon as you are rotten, either write things worth reading or do things worth the writing._" And he has certainly not done anything worth the writing.

Ω

The day is…a day, I guess. I make it through Am His okay. No one passes me any notes, so I assume Austin hasn't told anyone about what he read. I tried to figure out which pages he read, but I can't. They all look the same; milky white, and smooth.

My other classes are just like any other. No one gives a damn about me in those classes, except for when they need help or they need to cheat off someone.

The only event in my day is biology. I sit beside Ethan and smile at him, nodding a hello.

"Okay, class, settle down." Mrs. Benson says in front of the class. I look around confusedly; no one is talking. "The dissections went well yesterday for such ingrates." Her voice is smug and ringing, like little drills in my ear drums. "You will write a lab report with your partner, standard length, due in a week's time. Now, do whatever the hell you want for the rest of the period, and don't bug me unless one of you commits a federal offense."

She sits down at her desk and pulls out a magazine. I turn to Ethan.

"So…when do you want to get together to do this?" I ask. He thinks for a minute, thoughts flitting across his dull blue, anime sized eyes.

"I have last period as a spare, so how about…after school at my house?" he ventures. I nod. "So what's up with you?"

"Not much." I shrug. "My Florida State portfolio is coming along okay. You?"

He drums his fingers on his chin for a minute before smiling wickedly. "I have a date Wednesday."

"Ooh, what's his name? Does he go to this school?" I say excitedly. I love romance. It's sort of my one little weakness. Besides geese. And pickles. I love pickles…

"His name is Winston, and no, he goes to the catholic school down the road; St. Columba's." he is smiling even more broadly now.

"A catholic boy, how interesting. What are you going to wear?" I'm jumping up and down in my stool now. He laughs at my giddiness.

"Wow. You act like you've never been on a date before." He looks at me oddly. I stop jumping in my chair as a deep blush creeps up my neck. Ethan's joking smile falls. "You've never been on a date, have you?"

"_Pfft_, what? Are you crazy? Of course I've been on a date. I've been on _plenty_ of dates. Like…plenty…" I trail off awkwardly. My eyes fall to the countertop and my cheeks are fully blazing.

"Have you ever even kissed a guy before?" Ethan asks.

"A-almost." I mumble. In my periphery, Ethan raises an eyebrow.

"Care to share the identity of this mystery man who hath stolen thy heart?"

I clear my throat awkwardly. I fold my hands on the countertop and twiddle my thumbs together so they would have something to do. "Aushtuun Mhun." I mumble.

"Excuse me?" he asks. I look up at him sheepishly.

I clear my throat again. "Austin M-Moon." I say a little more confidently. I still sound totally unconfident, but now I'm audibly unconfident.

Ethan's mouth drops open, and his eyes bug out. "You kissed –" he starts loudly. I shush him, clapping my hands over his mouth.

"Will you be _quiet_!" I hiss quietly. "I did _not_ kiss him. It was almost, and it was only, like…fo-four times." He peels off my hand and starts again.

"Ally Dawson, are you insane?" he whisper-hisses now. His eyes are crazy and wide. "You almost kissed the devil four freaking times!"

"I know, I have a problem!" I let go of his surprisingly soft hands and put my head in them. "But I swear I will never ever almost do it again!"

"Are you kidding me?" Ethan scoffs. "If you don't, I will." I give him an odd look. "What? He is hands down the hottest guy at this school. If you don't kiss him, even if he doesn't play for my team, I will. But with you, y'know, it'll be less awkward."

"Okay, now you're the one who's insane." I shake my head at the boy. "He's an ass," I pull out my songbook and open it to a fresh page. "Even if he does have dreamy eyes and hair that flops just the right way." I add before I can stop myself from thinking the words. I gasp as I hear myself say them.

"Girl, you got it bad." Ethan nudges me in the arm, laughing at my accursed deep blush.

"I do not." I hiss. "If anything, I have it…_un_bad…" I mutter that part. I clutch the book in my hands so hard my knuckles turn white.

Ethan chuckles, pulling out his own book; _Hamlet_, another Shakespeare book. "Oh yeah, you so like him." He smiles wryly at the pages before his eyes fog over, and I know he is lost in the story

Ω

I walk up to Ethan's front door at 2:45, my bag slung over my shoulder, ready to work on our lab report. I knock on the black painted wooden door and take a step back. After a few seconds, the door opens to a lanky redheaded with pale skin and an abundance of freckles kid about my age. He looks familiar, but I can't pinpoint where I've seen him before.

"Can I help you?" the redhead asks curtly.

I clear my throat; I'm not very good around new people. "Is Ethan home?" the redhead nods and takes a step away from the door to let me in.

I step into a nice front hall with a sparkling chandelier swinging over my head.

"I'll go get Ethan." The redhead boy says. I nod, and he turns and walks down the attached hallway into another room. I wait for a second, looking around, gripping the straps of my bag tightly. The front hall is nice and spacious. Black and white tiles pattern the floor. They match the grayish coloured walls and bright windows.

"Ally?" a chilling voice says behind me. I turn around, expecting to see Ethan, but I don't.

Instead, I see Austin standing behind me, leaning on the wooden banister of the stairs, staring at me wide eyed.

I try to vocalize what I think, but all I can do is think rashly in my head. '_Austin freaking Moon._'

* * *

**Ethan knows what's up. And who was the redheaded boy who opened the door? Why was Austin at Ethan's house? What mark do they get on their lab report? All these answers and more in the next installments of GFHS, so stay tuned!**

**Notes!:**

**-**Alivia: **Why thank you! You can't be in this business with horrible grammar or details! Keep on falling in love, and keep on reading!  
**-Izzy1998:** Thanks!  
-"**Loved it! Is Austin like one of those boys who is mean to girls because he likes them? Haha" **It's... a possibility... thanks!  
**-cupcake291:** O.O keep...fangirling...I think...  
-**Dimples:** Of course I thanked you, you reviewed! Thanks again!  
-**DisneychannelwatcherWow:** Okay, so Ally asked why he always picked on her, and he said "don't ask" but then at the said "your hair ALWAYS looked pretty" so... do with that what you will, I guess...  
-**The Anon that quoted chapter five a lot:** Question answers in order!: No, he was actually going to say "I don't know". I'm guessing he won't be. Yes she was. It depends if you ask her or Ethan. Ethan would say "she loves him." but Ally would say something brainy about the cortex and whatnot. You'll have to wait to find out. Thank you!  
-"**Why did the rumors even start? Please answer :)": **She's smarter and better than them. Refer to the quote at the beginning if you're still confused!**

**Thank you to all the Anons who reviewed, and keep on reading, guys! **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	7. How He Made Me Schizo

Chapter seven: How He Made Me Schizo

* * *

"_It's fascinating to think that all around us there's an invisible world we can't even see. I'm speaking, of course, of the World of the Invisible Scary Skeletons."_

—_Jack Handy_

* * *

My grip slackens of the straps of my backpack, and my hands slip to my sides as my mouth drops open. Thoughts storm around in my mind, one after the other, at the speed of light. '_Why is he here? Does he know Ethan? Did Ethan invite him? Did Ethan tell him what I said about his hair and his eyes? Why would I even __**think**__ that?_'

As I'm thinking frantically to myself, Austin's mouth slides open, until it's hanging fully open, making him look more like an idiot than usual.

Footsteps tap against the tiled floor behind me, followed by two sets of choked laughter. I turn around to see the redheaded boy is back, with his hand clapped over his mouth and his shoulders shaking slightly from laughter. Ethan stands much the same way behind him.

"Well." Ethan manages out through his chokes of laughter. "This should be interesting."

I scowl at him dangerously. "Shut up." I grumble.

In one fluid motion, Austin stalks away from the banister, grabs the redhead by the arm so hard he winces in pain, and drags the redhead down the hall, through one of the attached doorways. The second they're out of earshot, I turn to Ethan.

"What the _hell_ is he doing here?" I hiss viciously.

Ethan lets his hand fall from his mouth, revealing a crooked, twisted smile. "What's wrong, Ally? Does seeing him here make you fall in _love_?" he taunts, lolling the word '_love_'.

My eyes narrow, and my scowl grows. "Shut up." I repeat darkly. "And answer the question!"

Ethan strolls casually over to a hook on the wall and lifts the black backpack off it. "He's hanging out with my brother Dez; the ginger." He hoists the backpack over his shoulder and turns to me. I raise an eyebrow skeptically.

"Really? The ginger is your kid brother?" I snort. "Sure. And Austin is my soul mate."

"Prepare to eat your words, Dawson, because Dez _is_ my kid brother." He says matter-of-factly. He starts the climb the twisted stairs, with me following at his heels. "My parents adopted him when he was fourteen. Before that, he was in about twenty different foster homes around Miami."

I fall silent, letting my eyes fall to the wooden steps. "Oh." I squeak.

"Yeah. He's a good kid, despite the fact that we've been his only stable family his entire life." His voice is sad and mournful. "I love him, even if Austin's always here."

We reach the top of the stairs, and turn to the door on the right. I decide to try and make the mood a little lighter. "So Austin's always here? What, did you think that was the perfect alibi to invite him over just to annoy me?"

Ethan obviously catches onto my plan, and chuckles. "Yes, Dawson. After listening to you moon over that Moon in biology, I decided to invite him over to unhinge the last strings of your mind for my own personal enjoyment." He scoffs. "'Cause I'm _that_ evil."

"Well, we don't know that." I say. I look around the room. It's a simple enough room, with a futon against one wall, a bright bay window, a few pieces of clothing strewn around on the carpet floor, and a single poster of a shirtless guy hanging beside the window. I recognize the guy as Alex Pettyfer leaning against a white painted wall.

"Alex Pettyfer?" I question. "Why not someone like Nicholas Hoult?" **[1]**

"Come on, Alex Pettyfer's hot!" Ethan says in compliance. He smiles at the poster for a moment before plopping down on the futon, dropping the backpack on the carpet beside his feet.

"Well yeah," I nod, sitting down beside him. "But _Nicholas Hoult_." I pull out my biology binder from my bag and open it to a fresh page. "Now, let's get started…"

Ω

Ethan and I work nonstop for the next hour and a half, talking about random miscellaneous things like celebrity crushes, teachers we won't miss when we graduate, and favourite songs and bands, and our favourite books. Ethan's answers are as such: Alex Pettyfer and Robert Downy Jr., Mrs. Benson, _Desperate Measures_ by Mariana's Trench, and _Call of The Wild_ by Jack London. I've learned Ethan has somewhat of a fetish with old books.

My answers are: Nicholas Hoult and Ross Lynch (who, as Ethan feels the need to remind me profusely, looks _exactly_ like one A. Moon), Mr. Hearn, the math department head, _Come Down With Love_ by Allstar Weekend, and _City of Bones_ by Cassandra Clare.

Our work is only interrupted after an hour and a half by Ethan's mom calling us down for a snack. We leave our books lying on Ethan's duvet, and go downstairs to the kitchen, where a stout Korean woman is setting two plates on the kitchen table. She smiles at us as we walk in, and rushes to hug her son.

"Hey, mom." Ethan says, hugging his mom tight. After a moment, his mom lets go of him and turns to me, beaming. She has the same dull blue eyes as her son, but for some reason, they seem brighter on her. They're the exact same shade, but different tones.

"You must be Ally." She says brightly. I nod and hold my hand out to shake hers, but she ignores it and pulls me into a swift hug.

"It's great to meet you, Mrs. Garriwick." I say politely, giving her a quick squeeze before letting go.

"Oh, please Ally, call me Jiyung." She scoffs. I nod in understanding. Ethan and I sit down at the table side by side, and begin eating our snacks of raw carrots and broccoli and dip. Jiyung sits at the table across from us, and smiles brightly at her son as we talk lightly.

After a minute, she quips up, "If you don't mind me asking, Ally, how old are you? Surely you can't be in Ethan's grade; you're much too young."

I wipe my mouth free of dip before answering. "I'm fifteen. I take all advanced classes, so that's why Ethan and I are in the same biology class."

"Ally is somewhat of a child genius." Ethan tells his mom in between bites of carrots. I shoot him an evil look before returning to my deliciously nutritious snack.

We stay quiet after that. Ethan and I polish off our plates quickly and silently, while Jiyung reads a book I've never heard of before, _Intertwined _by Gena Showalter. After the snacks, Ethan washes our plates in the sink, while I sit at the table, looking around the neat kitchen. I notice there's not a single thing out of place. The saucepans hand from hooks on the ceiling over the stove. The knives are all in order in the knife block, next to the cutting board on the island. The cookie jar has not a crumb lying around it beside the microwave. It's eerily clean.

Just then, two sets of feet tap their way into the kitchen. Jiyung looks up from her book and smiles at Dez and Austin as they sit across from me at the table.

"Austin!" she says brightly. "I didn't know you were here!"

Austin smiles warmly at Jiyung. "I wouldn't miss your chicken casserole for the world." He says, and then turns to me. "Are you staying for dinner? You _totally_ should. This woman is the world's best chef."

"Oh, Austin," Jiyung giggles. "You're just trying to sweet talk me into a second serving."

"Well, is it working?" Austin turns back to Jiyung, raising an eyebrow.

"No." she snaps jokingly. "In this house, you have to work for your second servings."

"Well, I've put up with your son for the past two years." Austin replies, clapping Dez on the shoulder. "Does that count for anything?"

Jiyung lets out a tinkling laugh. Dez's cheeks redden slightly. "Sadly, no." she says. "You have to put up with Ethan before you can get two servings. Dez is my easy child."

"It's true." I quip. "Ethan is a narcissistic man-child. It isn't easy being his friend." I shift my eyes to Austin for a second. "Sound familiar?" I flash a quick, fake cheery smile. His face sours, and he sticks his tongue out at me like a child would.

"Hey, I would stop talking if I were you!" Ethan says from the sink. "That is unless you _want_ to get a D in biology."

"Um, I believe _I'm_ the one that's going to keep our biology mark this semester." I shoot back. "You know, being the child genius and all."

"If that's what you want to call it." Austin mutters across the table, too low for Jiyung to hear and take away his casserole, but not low enough to keep me from hearing. I narrow my eyes angrily at him.

"Don't talk." I mutter lowly to him. "Or I will be forced to slap you." I turn to Jiyung and smile brightly. "Unfortunately, I have to go home now. My mom was expecting me home at four, and it's…" I look at the clock hanging on the wall. "Four thirty. I better go before she gets too mad."

I stand from the table and wave bye to Ethan. I quickly run upstairs and grab my things from Ethan's room. After flashing a quick, flirtatious smile to the Alex Pettyfer poster, I walk back downstairs to the front hall.

Ethan waits to wave good bye to me by the front door. I give him a quick smile, thank Jiyung, and walk out of their wonderfully neat house. The second my flip flop touches the hot asphalt of the street and Ethan's door closes behind me, I am bombarded by thoughts I had been delaying for an hour and a half.

I don't know where they come from, but I don't like them. '_Did I really "moon over the Moon" like Ethan said?_' A little voice in my head answers, '_I don't know, do you?_'

Another thought whizzes past my eyesight. '_Why am I suddenly listening to Ethan about my love life?_' Again, the voice says, '_Because he's your only friend. Who else would you listen to?_' A part of me knows that little voice in my head is right. Another part knows I should probably talk to someone about the little voice. I ignore both parts, though. Why should I start listening to my brain in this point in the game?

'_Because that's all it is; a game_.' The voice whispers.

'_Shut up._' I snap back at it. '_Okay, this is __**not**__ a good sign…_'

I run a hand through my hair, frustrated, and continue walking. I do all I can to block any thoughts from my head. I try tapping random beats on my thighs, but all that does is remind me of this morning. I try singing under my breath, but that only reminds me of the song I attempted to write last weekend, and what interrupted me. I try to think about puppies, but all that does is remind me of last Thursday, at the company dinner that pretty well ruined my life.

"Face it," I mutter to myself. "That kid has screwed up your brain for good. You've finally lost it."

Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my pocket, snapping me out of my drowning thoughts. I roll my eyes, expecting it to be mom, furious at me for being late. Instead, it's a number I don't recognize, I click open.

_What's up, Ally? _

I can't tell who it is. I type a quick response. _Who is this?_

Within seconds, my phone beeps again. _The love of your life coming to sweep you off your feet, out of your tower, and off to never land! Join me, my princess!_

I don't have to think long on who it is at that response. _How'd you get my number?_

_Ethan gave it to me. He said something about…dreamy eyes ;)_

I nearly throw my phone onto the pavement right then and there. But I don't; my mom would kill me if I come home late with a broken phone. Again. I type an angry response quickly and very rashly.

_Why don't you just do us all a favour and go to hell already? I'm sure Satan wouldn't mind the company of someone even eviller than him. _

_;)_ I add after a second. I can just imagine him staring at his phone, dumbfounded. I know, I don't usually use that kind of language, by desperate times call for desperate measures.

I quickly shut my phone off all together before Austin has a chance to reply. I slide it back into my jeans pocket and walk again. But once again, I am bombarded with thoughts galore.

But one thought sticks out the most in my mind; the thought that philosophers and great thinkers alike have pondered over since man has been conscious of his thought.

Why?

Why do I even care?

I don't. Why would I care about someone so self-centred and obnoxious like Austin freaking Moon?

* * *

**A/N:**

**[1]: I was trolling the Cassandra Clare website, when I saw she had an imaginary cast for the Infernal Devices. Nicholas Hoult was Will. I agree. That is all. **

**Tada! What do you guys think? I know there's not a lot of Auslly in here, but it's coming, I swear! To everyone who guessed Dez was the redhead, and Austin was hanging with Dez, good job! To the person who thought Austin was gay, really? **

**Notes!:**

**-Louis: Probably around chapter ten or so. I think...  
-**THIS SHROT MAKES: **I'm sorry, what?  
-Alivia: No, he's not gay. And okay then. You get on that *nods head slowly and smiles awkwardly* Haha, just kidding! Thanks!  
-Melody: You certainly may! Ethan was kind of inspired by my best friend because he's always going to be there for Ally, even if he does tease her, and my best friend teases me, but I still love her to pieces.  
-Antfarmfanatic: Okay, so Ally asked why Austin was ALWAYS a jerk to her, and he said at the end "Your hair ALWAYS looked pretty." That's the best I can explain it. Thanks!  
-Olivia: Just 'cause :)**

**Thanks guys, and keep on reading! **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	8. Seconds In Disbelief

Chapter eight: Seconds In Disbelief

* * *

_"It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye." _  
_― Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince_

* * *

The second I get home, I sprint upstairs to my bedroom; shut the door behind me—ignoring my mother's inquiries as to why I'm late—and call Ethan. After a few rings, he picks up.

"Cello?" his laid back voice says.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I demand sharply. I begin to pace around my room.

"How, how you _do_ flatter me so." He muses.

"Oh, cut the crap, Ethan." I snap. "You gave Austin my number."

"Yes." He says. "And your compliance is?"

I rub the back of my neck feverishly. "I just told you. You gave him my number. Why?"

There is a long silence. His breathing sounds through the receiver of my fliphone. Finally, he answers, "I'm a romantic. I've always wanted to meddle in someone's relationship." He sounds aloof, but I can imagine the terse expression on his golden face at this moment.

"But we don't _have_ a relationship." I insist. Ethan snorts loudly, causing me to grimace into the phone.

"Seriously Ally?" he asks incredulously. "The way you talked about him in biology…" there is another lapse of silence. "I don't believe you for one second."

And with that, the call falls dead. I hold the phone away from my face, staring at it, appalled. How _dare_ he? I snap the phone shut and, with a frustrated growl, throw it onto my bed. It bounces a few times on the pink flowery comforter, before resting softly at the foot of my bed.

I cross my arms over my chest, scowling at the air in front of me. His voice echoes in my ears, taunting me with their mere presence.

'_I don't believe you for one second._'

Ω

I don't know how I sleep that night. Truthfully, I _don't_. I can't sleep with Ethan's words in my head, snaking around each and every cerebrum in my brain, driving me just a _little_ bit more insane with every repeat and every question it raises. What did he mean? What would make him say that? I barely even talked about him in biology; so what would make him think we like each other?

By the time my alarm clock beeps the next morning, I've run through the last week in my mind about a million times, and deduced that either a) Ethan is crazy, or b) Ethan is absolutely, positively, terrifically, criminally _insane!_ Admittedly, probably the former, but you never know.

I slam on the snooze button and drag myself out of my warm and cozy bed. I move around the small bedroom out of instinct, readying myself out of a habit so practiced, I am only a fraction awake. I grab a pair of dark faded jeans, a red crew neck t-shirt, and a plain white sweater and slip them on.

I eat breakfast silently at my kitchen table across from my father as he drinks his morning coffee and reads _the Miami Scribe_. My corn flakes are tasteless in my mouth—almost like sandpaper, but I choke them down.

Another day, another painful nightmare.

After breakfast, I brush my teeth and hair, kiss dad good bye, and walk out the door. The fresh morning air is crisp and unspoiled. I breathe in two lungs-full of the air, and wrap my sweater tighter around me. September is almost over—that much is clear.

I walk along the side of the roads, blinking in the gray sunlight, trying desperately to wake up before I get to C.S. Lewis. It's an ordeal, but by the time I step into the school, I am nearly fully awake. Partly because halfway through my walk to school, it begins to spit rain, forcing me to jog to the building.

I run a hand through my damp hair as I stand in front of locker 2352. Spinning the dial on the lock, I do a quick sweep across the hallway. It's empty.

I grab my Am His textbook, shoving it harshly into my book bag, and nearly slam the locker door shut. I don't know exactly what it is about this school that makes my blood boil. Perhaps it is the horrible memories these walls have seen over the past year and a bit. Or maybe it is just the fact that my tormentors and I are squished together like sardines for seven and a half hours every week day. But either way; I will not miss high school. Wherever said high school was the best four years of your life was a delusional drunk. There is no greater torture than having to come here every week day and pretend like everything is _just peachy! _If you don't, well, then you have a one way ticket to the guidance office, and a bunch of "concerned" adults asking over and over "Everything okay?"

And of course, you have to answer, "Of course. Everything's perfect" with a fake smile.

There is one good thing about high school, though. It makes you a stellar actress.

I walk down the hallway. The occasional student bumps into me as they walk past. Some call me vile names, while others just whisper to their friends and snigger.

For once, I slightly embrace this treatment. At least I don't have to wait for what would happen next.

Oh, if only I knew…

Ω

It continues to rain through Am His, physics, and psychology. I spend all three periods staring out the wind at the pattering rain drops against the glass panes. There's always been something about the rain that just…calms me. I've always loved it, and I always will.

A song chimes in my head from _The Sound of Music. _

"_Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens  
__Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens  
__Brown paper packages tied up with strings  
__These are a few of my favorite things_"

That same verse chimes in my head as I walk to the music department during lunch. Normally, I would be in the park, on top of the monkey bars, but it's raining too hard outside, so I can't. I know; sad face.

So I have my Plan B; the music room. I hum the verse from _The Sound of Music_ under my breath and nod my head a bit as I walk to the painted door. One of the art students painted the door beautifully to look like a recording studio. Vinyl records hang on the walls around the door from all of the greats; Led Zeppelin, ACDC, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Elton John—everyone. I love this hallway. It's the only one I'll never be scared of. There's just so much music history in this very hallway.

I don't think about what I'm doing as I push open the door. The lock clicks as I push it open, and again as it falls closed behind me.

A sharp gasp reaches my ears. I look up from the carpeted floors to the gleaming black piano. Two people are lying on top of the piano, entangled in one another.

"Sweet mother of godfather." I gasp, horrified.

Austin looks up from where he is lying on top of a girl in grade eleven. Her blonde-brown hair is tangled and splayed out around her on the piano top. Her legs are wrapped around his middle and her hands placed on his bare chest.

Austin's face twists into sheer horror when he sees me. "A-A-All—" he begins to stutter before the girl tilts her head back on the piano, sees me, and screams shrilly so high pitched I have to plug my ears with my fingers to keep from going deaf. Austin pushes off her, bounds off the piano (bare chested, I might add). The girl sits up, twisting around to see where he is going. I am shocked to see that she, too, is shirtless. I am even more shocked to see that I know her. She was in my music class last year. I think her name is Cassidy.

_Dear god, I shared my pencils with her! _

I don't wait for Austin to run over to me and apologize for seeing him and Cassidy so… _explicitly_. I wheel around and bolt.

Unfortunately, I forget that I closed the door.

I run straight into it at full speed. My sight instantly goes black, donned with shooting stars. I clap my hand over my nose, but that doesn't help. I feel red blood instantly begin to pour from my nose and drip down my arm.

"Ally, you okay?" Austin's concerned voice says. I try to look up at him, but the blood is falling too quickly.

"Austin!" Cassidy shrieks defiantly from the piano.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be right back." Austin says dismissively. He puts his hands on my shoulders and begins to steer me out of the music room. I jerk back, grabbing the door handle, and leave the music room, disgusted.

Ω

Fifteen minutes later, I sit on the counter of the nurse's office with a tampon shoved up my left nostril and my arms crossed over my chest, annoyed. Ethan sits on the cot a few feet from the counter, trying not to laugh too hard.

"Okay, so let me get this straight." He says amusedly. "You walk in on Austin just before he gets to second base with Cassidy, he leaves her and tries to help you when you nearly break your nose on the door, she slaps him for leaving her for you, and you don't even let him get to first?"

I nod angrily, shooting daggers into the boy.

He snorts just as loudly as he did when I told him what had happened earlier. "Dude, that's cold." He bursts into laughter again, rolling around on the cotton sheets of the germ-infested cot.

"Shut up." I grumble. "It is not funny."

"On the contrary, dear Allyson." Ethan wipes away an emerging tear in his eye. "I find it hilarious to see you sitting on the counter of the nurse's office with a tampon shoved up your nose from running from your soul mate."

"He is _not_ my soul mate." I insist stubbornly.

"Fine." Ethan surrenders. "He's just your true love."

"He is—" I start, only to be cut off by a soft knock on the door. Ethan and I both look to see Austin poking his blonde head into the room, looking at me, concerned.

Speak of the devil.

Ethan steals a sideways smile at me before pushing off the cot and walking into the nurse's workroom, leaving me alone with Austin. I watch him as he walks away. When I can no longer see Ethan's reddish auburn hair, I turn my narrowed gaze on Austin.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. "Did you want to find another girl to screw over after Cassidy left?"

Austin doesn't answer right away. He walks into the office solemnly and sits on the cot, where Ethan had been sitting. "I just wanted to see if you were okay." He says finally in a small voice.

"Well, thank you for that detailed apology." I spit.

His face falls even further. "Right, ah," he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Ally, I'm sorry you accidentally walked in on me and Cassidy."

"Apology accepted." I nod. I pull the tampon out of my nose, cringing at the feel. Austin pales at the sight, his eyes falling to his Chuck Taylors.

"Why do you have a…" he asks before trailing off, looking a little sickly.

"Tampon?" I complete. I smirk as he pretends to gag at the word 'tampon'. He nods awkwardly. "Yeah, the nurse ran out of tissues, and apparently, she just watched _She's The Man_ a couple of days ago, so…" I waved the blood soaked tampon in the air before plopping it in the waste basket beside the counter, already filling with bloodied tampons.

"You sure you're going to be okay?" he asks again. I look at him oddly. He looks concerned… for me. It's weird. I wiggle a bit on the counter.

"Yeah." I say. "It's not the first time I've had a nose bleed at school." I force a wry smile. He nods.

"If you're okay, then I guess I'll be going." He starts to stand off the cot.

"Well," I start. "If you want to stay… I mean, the nurse won't let me go until lunch is over, so…" I start to ramble on blunderingly before I force myself to stop. I look at him. He is frozen in midair, halfway between standing and sitting. He looks stricken for a moment before easing back onto the cot.

"If you insist." He smiles coyly, leaning against the stone wall behind him. "I guess I could humour yet another of my many lady friends."

"Hey, I don't have to keep you here." I say. "I've got loads of gentlemen callers that would kill to be in your place."

He snorts. "Please, you're not a Klondike bar." We both laugh at that.

"If I was a chocolate bar, I think I'd be more of a _Million Dollar Bar_." I say.

"And I'd be a _Mr. Big_." I don't know what it is, but I can't help but laugh at that.

"No, I think _Baby Ruths_ would be better suited for you."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Ethan watching this little scene from the window of the nurse's workroom. He smiles and nods at me encouragingly. Suddenly, I feel myself blush. I focus back on Austin, who is spinning a riveting tale of something funny Kate said last night. His honey coloured eyes shine brightly as he speaks about his little sister. He really does love her, even if she annoys him.

"…And then she just tossed her hair and laughed." He beams. "And mom was all, '_keep talking like that missy and you'll end up like your brother in no time_', so then Kate was like, '_At least all the girls will love me_'." he shakes his head, shaking with laughter. "God, that kid is going places." He meets my eye and is completely silent for a moment.

Something weird happens between us right then. There's almost… a spark. When his eyes become level with mine—just for a second—I can feel my heart beating vividly, before Austin continues his story and it goes back to normal.

I hear Ethan's words in the back of my mind for a second. '_I don't believe you for one second_'.

It occurs to me right then what Ethan could have possibly meant by that. For once, I consider a possibility—a variable in my plans for the future, if you will—I hadn't thought of before.

Could I, Allyson Elizabeth Dawson, be falling for him? Could I be falling for one Austin freaking Moon?

* * *

**So what do you guys think? I'm not sure if it's really good, but... Anyways, THANK YOU! I got over 200 reviews! That is a new record! Thank you guys so much. You really are why I write. Y'know, besides the fact that writing is like-_wow_. **

**Notes!**

-Tyler Tielor:** Ya! You are 200! Congratulations, and thank you!  
**-Melody:** She may be in the later chapters, but I haven't decided yet. Thanks!  
**

**Thank you to all the Anons, and to everyone who keeps asking about the "Your hair always looked pretty" thing, just wait. I'll explain it later. Just forget it for now. Keep on reading!**

**-KR Blake Ω**


	9. The Night Of Horrific Phone Calls

_Chapter nine part 1: The Night Of Horrific Phone Calls_

* * *

_"You see, the strangeness of my case is that now I no longer fear the invisible, I'm terrified by reality." ― Jean Lorrain  
_

* * *

_I'm in an odd state right now. I don't know how to explain it. My heart keeps speeding up at random intervals and I can't breathe. I can't seem to figure out the trigger, though. I mean, if I could find the trigger, then I could terminate the problem, right? Well, I've been catching up on the episodes I've missed of Big Bang Theory, and I think I've come up with a few possibilities. I have an arrhythmia; I have asthma; I have an arrhythmia __**and**__ asthma; I have someone "in my sights" (as mom would say); or I've been possessed by an alien. Personally, I think I'm possessed, as I have none of the other telltale signs of asthma or an arrhythmia, and who the hell could I have in my sights? It's ridiculous. _

_On a completely unrelated topic, I keep having this same weird dream. It starts off normal enough. I'm sitting at a grand piano, playing one of my concertos in Central Park; you know how it is. People clap and cheer for the child piano prodigy that is me. But then, it gets weird. Someone is calling for me. I stop playing and look around. I see Austin at the edge of the stage, calling my name. But not like the other spectators are chanting "Al-ly! Al-ly! Al-ly!" This is more desperate; like he __**has **__to find me if it's the last thing he does. He steps up on stage and walks over to me. I stand and smile at him. He smiles back. Again, this smile is different. Whereas his smiles are usually wry, sarcastic, or cynical, this one is genuine. _

_I kind of like it. _

_I think. _

_Anyways, we meet each other at the centre of the stage, and then—oh, you'll laugh at this, diary—he wraps his arms around me. __**And I let him**__. He starts to lean down towards me, like he's going to kiss me. The crowd "aww"s, and I start to lean up to him._

_And then he says, "I won't let them hurt you."_

_And then the dream cuts off. Always at that exact same part. It's infuriating. It's even more infuriating that it's __**every single night!**__ I don't know what to do, diary. Any suggestions? _

I look up from my songbook, at the wall above my desk. A poster hangs there, full of quotes from my favourite authors; J.R.R. Tolkien, Cassandra Clare, and—most ironically of all—C.S. Lewis. I chuckle at that. "_You can never get a cup of tea large enough or a book long enough to suit me._" I've always loved that quote.

"Ally!" mom calls from the bottom of the stairs. I sigh and put down my pen, pushing out from my desk. I walk downstairs, bored, my hands dug into my jeans pockets.

"Coming!" I call back.

I walk into the front hall, where my mother is waiting by the door, holding it open slightly. I look at her expectantly, and she nods at the door. I nod back, and take hold of the door, waiting for her to walk back into the kitchen before I open it. And of course, who stands there?

Yes, you guessed it; Austin.

My grip tightens on the side of the door, and my eyes narrow for a minute, before I blink and say, "Can I help you?" as politely as I can. It's not incredibly polite, but at least mom can't make me apologize for this tone.

He tightens his hands on his shoulder bag and nods his head behind him, signalling for me to come outside. I slip on a pair of flip flops strewn messily beside the door. I had probably kicked them off the last time mom made me run to the bakery a couple of blocks away for more baguettes and coffee grinds.

I step out onto the front porch, shutting the door behind me, and look at Austin. "What is it?" I ask.

He smirks at my slight snap. "Wow. You sure you didn't suffer any head injuries when you ran into the music door?"

I roll my eyes. "That was like three weeks ago, Blondie. Not exactly how head injuries work." I say matter-of-factly. "How is Cassidy, by the way?"

"Dunno." He shrugs. "She hasn't talked to me since then." He sounds so laid back, like he's saying "_what evs, dude. S'all cool_." I try not to react to that, but I can't help it. I smirk.

"The great Austin Moon was rejected by the hottest girl in school." I say, faking being taken aback. "That is unheard of!"

"She's not the _hottest_ girl in school." He mumbles, his eyes falling to the wooden porch and his cheeks colouring slightly. "I can think of someone more beautiful."

I wait for him to elaborate, but when he doesn't, I shake my head. "Whatever. What do you want?"

He opens his shoulder bag a bit and pulls out a large paper bag. "My mom made a bit too much cinnamon loaf, so she made me bring some to you." He hands me the paper bag. I stick my nose in a bit and take a long whiff of the cinnamon fragrance that makes my head swim. I smile and look up at Austin.

"This smells amazing." I say gleefully.

"It tastes even better." He nods mournfully.

"You wanted to keep this loaf for yourself, didn't you?" I guess. The tips of his ears turn a bit pink, and he smiles coyly, shrugging.

"My mom's a pretty amazing cook." He says. I look down at the loaf in my hands. A steady spiral of steam is still rising from the top of the loaf; snaking around my nose and making me smile even more broadly. The smell makes me even more reluctant to do what I do next. I tear off a careful hunk of the bread and hold it out to him. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and he slowly takes the steaming bread from me and takes a small bite.

I rip off my own piece and bite. Instantly, my mood lifts at the seductive taste of cinnamon. Yes, call me crazy, I but I love it. There's just something about it that makes me want to break into random song about my feelings.

"This really is amazing." I say, wiping a few crumbs away from the edge of my lips. "Is that nutmeg?"

"Just a pinch." He holds his thumb and index finger close together, with only a few millimetres space in between them. I give him a questioning look. "What? My mom made me learn how to bake. She said, '_Austin. When you meet a girl, and you fall for her, I want you to be able to impress her with your cinnamon loaf skills._'"

I can't help but laugh at that. "Yeah. Like a girl could ever fall for you." I snort. But the instant the words leave my lips, they feel… wrong in a way. Like deep down, I know they're a lie, no matter how much I want to believe it's the truth. I don't like it.

"Oh, how you continually belittle me, Allyson." He says, waggling his eyebrows a bit over cinnamon loaf.

"It's not belittling if it's the truth." I shoot back smoothly.

"Unless it's Opposite Day, then I believe it would be known as praise." He says. I nod in respect.

"It would seem you're evolving." I say, taking the last bite out of my hunk of cinnamon bread. He pops his last bits of cinnamon loaf in his mouth and licks the cinnamon and brown sugar off his long fingers.

"Well, I have been hanging around you a lot, little-miss-holier-than-thou." He replies with a wry smile. My cheeks flush at the mention of that stupid company dinner.

"Do we really need to open up this argument again, because I'm pretty sure I won last time?"

"Yes, your mother forced you to apologize." He rolls his eyes. "You _so_ won that one."

"You're going to keep throwing that in my face, aren't you?"

"'Til the day I die." He winks at me, flicking the last bits of crumbs off his fingers. There is a silence between us then as a crisp October breeze blows by. My hair flies a bit, being carried by the wind. I crinkle my nose and flatten it against my back.

But still, no matter how many times my hair can be messed up by these kinds of breezes, I love them. They just smell like Halloween and thanksgiving and pumpkin pies and everything I love about the fall—especially the walks down the boulevard in the afternoon, crunching the leaves underneath my feet. A little juvenile, I know, but I can't help it. Its classic, that sound you get when you crunch the crispest leaf, and get the best _crunch!_

I love October for specifically those reasons.

"I better be off." Austin says finally. "Kate keeps bugging me to take her out to Party Packagers to look for a Halloween costume." He pauses for a minute before asking, "You going out trick-or-treating?"

I think for a second. "Probably not, no." I shake my head as I speak. "My parents go to the company Halloween party, so I usually stay home and hand out candy."

"Sucks." He says sympathetically before turning around and walking down the few concrete steps onto the cobblestone path to the drive way. "Oh, I almost forgot," he stops for a minute and turns his head to me, smiling faintly. "It was Brom Bones."

I blink. "What?"

"It was totally Brom." He repeats. It takes me a moment before I know what he is talking about: The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. A lot of people think the Headless Horseman was just Brom Bones dressed up, and that he killed Ichabod so he could have Katrina all to himself.

"You're delusional." I say. "The Headless Horseman was his own person. Brom just got lucky."

He chuckles at this for a moment, before turning back around and walking down the drive, out onto the street.

I walk back into my house, into the kitchen, and lay the now cool cinnamon bread on the table for my mother. "Mrs. Moon sent this over." I explain when she gives me a confused look. "She made too much."

Mom nods and pulls the cinnamon loaf out of the oil-stained paper bag and lays it out on the counter. She takes out a sharp bread knife and begins slicing the bread startlingly evenly. "So that was all Austin wanted?" I can't see her eyes, trained on the cinnamon loaf, through her long lashes, but I know exactly how they glint mischievously by the airiness of her voice.

"Yeah, why?" I say, fighting to keep my heartbeat regulated.

She shrugs. "Oh nothing. I was just speaking to Mrs. Moon a few days ago. She just said—and I agree—that you two seem to be spending a lot of time together lately." I can see her smiling through the veil of her chocolate hair. It's an evil smile that says, "_Check and mate_".

"Well, I hardly call babysitting Kate spending a lot of time with Austin." I reply.

"Fine." Mom says, laying her knife down and collecting the slices of bread. "Denial is fine. Just remember, Ally," she looks directly in my eye. "Hearts are breakable."

Ω

The next week is uneventful. In biology, Mrs. Benson hands back our lab reports. Ethan and I get an A+, which, as Mrs. Benson writes on the top of our cover page, is "not our best work". There is just no pleasing that woman.

Also in Am His, I get a perfect score on my research paper on The Battle of Chancellorsville in Virginia. I smirk inwardly at that; Ms. Lewis thought it couldn't be done the night before.

Challenge accepted, and challenge demolished.

C.S. Lewis's reign of terror does not cease this week. On Monday, I am bombarded with spit balls in Am His (which I have decided is the devil's subject). On Tuesday, two unnameable niner guys break into my locker and rig it so spoiled milk spills all over me the next time I open it. Thankfully, I'm always prepared for these kinds of situations. I duck into the girl's bathroom quickly and change into the spare set of clothes I have stored in my bag. Though nothing helps the lingering smell of curdled milk, at least I don't have to walk around all day covered in milk—_again_.

On Wednesday, some guys I've never seen before jump me on my way home from school and steal my psychology textbook. They don't give them back until the next day, just before homeroom. I look at the pages as I walk to my corner seat. They are filled with crude drawings and profanities, including the seemingly very popular phrase, "_**GO BACK TO THE NUTHOUSE, BITCH!**_" in angry red sharpie.

Friday is the worst, though. I can handle people spilling milk all over me and vandalizing my textbooks; I know how to deal with these things. Sure, the laughter that follows is never easy, but it's never impossible.

But what I can't stand is what plays on the P.A. that morning, right in the middle of Am His (again, it's the devil's subject. It only makes sense).

Right at the hour mark of the lesson, the P.A. comes on, and piano chords start to play. At first, they are too staticy for me to make them out. But then they clarify, and someone starts to sing.

"_Flip a switch,  
Turn on the lightning,  
Get it right,  
Show 'em how it's done…_"

I know this song. I wrote this song. I'm _singing_ this song.

My hands clutch my pencil so hard, it starts to bend and nearly snaps. '_Harriet Tubman,_' my inner voice whispers. '_They can't hurt you; you're Allyson Elizabeth Dawson. Child genius, piano prodigy, soon to be C.S. Lewis alumni. They can't hurt you. Just don't react—don't give them what they want. Do not react. Harriet Tubman. Do not react._'

_Double Take_ ends after a minute, and there is a ringing silence. Just as I think I'm in the clear, the piano starts up again, slower this time.

"_I'm the girl in the corner of the room,  
The one you never notice,  
Getting lost among the stars in the sky,  
Like a picture out of focus…_"

This song I wrote only a few weeks ago. _You Don't See Me_.

My hands shake with anger now. These songs are private. There's a reason no one has ever heard them; they are for me and me only. Well, that and I have horrible stage fright.

I know my classmates know it's me on the P.A. now. They all shift in their seats and stare at me. And I mean _stare_. As in, boring into my soul with daggers and knives made of silver, trying their darndest to smite me with a single glance. My cheeks flush bright red, but my fingers remain chalk white, now gripping the edge of my wooden desk.

Just as the song reaches the chorus, I can't take it anymore.

"_I'm the sun in your eyes,  
Yet, you don't see me  
I wear no disguise  
But you don't see me  
I'm a total surprise  
And you don't see me_."

I snap my books shut, stuff them in my book bag, and leave as fast as I can, swinging my bag over my shoulder as I go. Ms. Lewis tries to call after me down the hall, but for once, I don't give a damn what she says. I just run a frustrated hand through my hair and walk briskly through the empty hallways of the school, until I find a safe place to hide; the roof.

Ω

I lay out flat on the roof, watching the clouds swirl overhead. My cheeks are wet with tears, and my hair is probably knotted from the wind, but I don't give a damn.

I probably should, though. Students aren't allowed on the roof under any circumstance. But hey, rules are made to be broken, right?

God, what is wrong with me? Talking to myself? Disregarding the rules? _Skipping class? _ That's just not me. I write when I want to say something. I always pay attention to the rules. I know how important it is to never skip class. My scholarship to Florida State is probably hanging by a thread right now.

But who the hell cares?

My life is over, and it's all thanks to the jackasses that got those songs and decided to play them on the P.A.

I watch the clouds roll over me. Tiny rays of sunlight escape through the silver linings, warming only parts of my skin. I have an almost overwhelming urge to leave this roof, and never come back. I want to, but I know that's not how things are done in this day and age. Years ago, I could have dropped out a long time ago, and it would have been totally fine. George Bernard Shaw and George Eastman dropped out of high school. Why can't I?

Because my mother would kill me.

In retrospect, dropping out wouldn't have helped me. Now moving to Alaska? That might have helped.

But not much.

Ω

For the next three days, I walk through the halls with my head ducked and my iPod plugged in. For twenty-one and a half hours, I drown out everything and try to focus on Mariana's Trench, R5, Allstar Weekend, books on tape, Simple Plan, and the Plain White Tees. I've completely checked out. I just don't want to care anymore. Every time I care, someone comes and rips it away from me. It's not worth it to fall for something, and then have it ripped out of your grasp forever. Then you just keep wishing you have what you can't.

Every day, someone sings my songs in front of me in cracked, scratchy voices. They mock me. Some of them have even made up their own versions of the songs.

"_They wanna run, run, run,  
Away, way, way.  
They want to scream, scream, scream,  
At your shame, shame, shame.  
You'll never make, make, make,  
'Em do a double take!_"

With every word, my heart breaks further. They can attack me; I really don't care about that. But when they bring music into the mix? _Then_ shit gets real. And believe me; shit just got real.

Ω

It's Halloween night tonight. It is just dawning on me tonight that whoever started those horrific rumours about people being brutally murdered on Halloween night might just have had the right idea.

I stand in the white tiled bathroom attached to my bedroom. I grip the sides of the ceramic sink tightly, watching myself in the mirror. Tear streaks shine on my cheeks. The house is eerily quiet. I can hear the pipes dripping, and fat rain drops splattering against the windows, and the roaring wind flying by. I usually love thunderstorms. There's just something about the powerful gusts of wind and the rain that… I don't know. I just love them.

But not tonight.

The phone call still rings in my ears. That husky voice that I've never heard before. "_Keep your eyes open, bitch. We're coming._"

The call came from a private number a few minutes ago. After those seven words, the line went dead, and my hand started shaking uncontrollably, followed by my whole body. My phone dropped onto my bedroom floor, still ringing with the dead line. Tears stung my eyes, and I ran into the bathroom, crying. I was terrified—I still am.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Trick-or-treaters.

I sniffle one last time, wipe my cheeks clean or tears, and walk down to the front hall. I can see three small silhouettes through the frosted window, all holding sacs probably half full of candy already. I grab the bowl of candy mom left on a chair beside the door, and open the door.

Three little kids, no older than nine or ten, stand there, wide eyed and broad smiled, holding heavy pillow cases full of candy. One is dressed as a pirate, complete with a plastic parrot on his shoulder. The girl in the centre is dressed as Snow White, and the girl beside her is dressed as a witch.

"_Trick or treat!_" they say happily in chorus, holding out their pillow cases. I drop a few pieces of candy in each of their pillow cases and watch them as they walk down the cobblestone path, and out to the drive. I shut the door behind me and walk into the living room. I flip on the T.V. and surf the channels until I settle on a marathon of old _Friends _reruns.

Sadly, I don't get to watch one full episode. The doorbell rings nonstop with children in creative costumes begging for another fistful of candy. I smile, shake my head, and grit my teeth at their angry stares when I have to reduce my generosity to one piece of candy per person. After that, I shut the door and go back to my marathon, only to be disrupted a few minutes later by another bout of trick-or-treaters.

At a little past nine thirty, I start to get pissed off by the constant stream of kids. So when the doorbell rings, I nearly rip the door off its hinges as I yank it open. Two people stand there now. One is a tall guy; around five foot ten, dressed in a head to toe in an impeccable Spiderman costume. The second person is Kate, dressed as a fairy princess, complete with a sparkling plastic crown on top of her curled blonde head. So that would make the Spiderman…

"Austin." I say. The Spiderman pulls off his mask.

"Happy Halloween." He says, smiling. He holds out his own pillowcase and says, "Trick or treat!"

I take out two pieces of candy, and drop one in Austin's and one in Kate's. Austin looks at me, slightly sad. "Only one?"

"Hey, don't blame me. You should have come by earlier, when I had enough to give out more." I say in defense.

"Aw, come on!" he pleads. "For me?" he pouts his bottom lip and gives me his biggest puppy dog looks.

"Well…" I say slowly. I pull out another piece of candy and hold it up. His face brightens substantially. I flash an evil smile and drop it into Kate's open pillowcase. "For you." I say smugly.

"You have no soul." Austin says. He pauses for a second, peering into my dark house, and then says, "You're home alone? On Halloween?" I nod. He runs a hand through his hair slowly, thinking hard.

Clouds rumble above, telling me the storm is coming back soon; it hasn't rained in a few hours, but the moist air begs to differ. It's coming back any minute now.

"Alright," he says finally. "I'm taking Kate home, and then I'm coming back."

"But, I'm fine alone—" I start, but he already has Kate by the hand and is walking down the cobblestone path.

"No, no, don't you try to change my mind." He throws over his shoulder. "I'm just doing my job as the masked vigilante that is Spiderman."

I laugh lightly at that and turn back into the house. I walk into the living room, where the next episode of _Friends_ is just starting. I slump down on the couch and crank up the volume on the T.V. I notice my phone on the coffee table blinking with a missed message.

I don't even think when I flip it open and press _OK_.

The call starts off with an eerie silence, followed by slow breathing that sends chills up my spine.

Then the husky voice is back, saying, "_Your boyfriend can't save you from everything._"

And then the call falls dead again, like the last one. And again, my hand starts to shake. My lungs feel like they've been beaten to empty sacs. The phone drops to the floor, a flat, a one kilohertz tone beeping in one long note.

This isn't the first time I've ever been threatened—by for it isn't. But there's something about this one that scares me. I don't even try to argue with myself that someone just called Austin my boyfriend. I fall onto the couch numbly, hugging my knees close to my chest. Tears sting my eyes again.

I don't want to think about this.

But I have the sneaking feeling I won't make it through the night.

Ω

"Ally?" Austin's voice calls into the house, echoing. I don't move from where I am curled up in a tight ball on the floor beside the couch. Footsteps sound in the house, clacking off the hardwood flooring. I see his black Chuck Taylors in the doorway of the living room. "Ally?" he repeats again.

I try to say something, but a sob just tears through the silence of the room; I muted _Friends_ about fifteen minutes ago. Austin walks over to me and crouches on the floor. "You okay?"

I shake my head and whisper hoarsely, "Austin, I'm scared." More tears sting my eyes and fall down my cheeks. He lies down on the hardwood beside me.

"Why?" he whispers.

"I'm not safe." I reply, my voice almost drowned out by the roaring wind and rolling thunder that has returned. He shimmies closer to me, but taking care not to touch me.

"I won't let them hurt you." he says.

* * *

**Alright, so I hate to do this, but I won't be updating anything next until Friday or Saturday. I'm sorry, but I have finals and ISUs all next week. Anyways, thank you guys! I got like 20 reviews! And yes, chapter nine is a two part chapter.**

**Notes!**

-2lazytologin:** Haha! Thanks! Man, I wish I had a coke right about now...  
**-Melody:** I don't actually know... I've never had to try. I guess if you had one small enough, yeah. But this is just a guess! Thanks!  
**

**Keep on reading guys, and please review! Tell me what you really think, not just "Love it, please update!" I love reading the long ones that tell me exactly what I'm doing right and wrong. Please? **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	10. Truth Or Fall In Like

Chapter nine part 2: Truth Or Fall In Like

* * *

"_You see, the strangeness of my case is that now I no longer fear the invisible, I'm terrified by reality."_

― _Jean Lorrain_

* * *

I sit on top of my plain pink comforter on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest. I look at the end of the bed numbly, listless. I don't register anything. Not the strikes of lightning outside the window of my bedroom. Not the rumbles of thunder booming in my ears. Not the suffocating darkness of the empty house. Not Austin pacing back and forth frantically, rubbing his chin with one hand, deep in thought.

I blink back another round of tears and look over to Austin. I can barely see him in the blackness—the power shut off about twenty minutes ago. I can just imagine the worried expression on his angelic face right now.

Normally, I would scold myself for thinking he looks like an angel, but now is not the time for my schizophrenic thoughts. I admit it—he looks like an angel. A sardonic angel, yes, but he is beautiful and I can't deny it.

"You know you've been staring at me for like a minute, right?" he whispers amusedly, snapping me out of my trance. I blink and turn my eyes back to the foot of the bed. The house lapses into a scared silence again. At least, it's scary to me.

No, it's terrifying.

"Will you stop pacing?" I snap irritably at him. He freezes for a moment before sitting at the edge of my bed, studying me intently.

"Tell me again what the calls said." He asks for the fifth time in ten minutes.

I take a deep breath and say, "They… they told me to keep my eyes open—the first call, that is. They said they were coming." I massage my temples, trying to fight off the oncoming migraine. "And then the second one just after you left with Kate said that you… couldn't protect me from everything."

He nods, his eyes flicking all around the room. They land on several things on my walls; the Florida State flag pinned on my wall; the old black and white photo of me, mom, and dad at the beach when I was seven; posters of my favourite bands and philosophers. He looks at them, but I don't think he's actually soaking them in.

"What are you thinking about?" I ask. He looks back to me almost absentmindedly.

"Nothing." He says automatically.

"No, you're definitely thinking about something." I say, pointing an accusing finger at him.

"I'm just… are you sure this wasn't just a prank?" he asks. I shake my head.

"I've been prank-threatened before. Trust me; this isn't a prank. This…" I trail off, thinking hard.

Fat raindrops are still splattering against the windows, breaking apart and falling in the leaves of the tree beside my window. I am briefly reminded of one time when I was six, and in this very bed. It was around midnight one night. A freak storm was hitting Miami that night. The wind whipped and roared ferociously, making the tree scratch against my window. I curled up in my blanket, tears streaking my tiny face. I was trying to pretend I was somewhere else—my grandmama's condo in Tallahassee, I think. But no matter how much I wanted to be somewhere else, I knew I was still going to wake up in a few minutes, practically wetting myself out of fear of this storm. I was still going to be in Miami, no matter how much I didn't want to be.

I had been terrified then, but now? I am a thousand times more scared than I had been that night.

"They meant it, Austin." I finish my thought, swallowing the large lump in my throat.

Tears sting my eyes again. Saying this out loud just makes me even more terrified.

Austin reaches over slowly, uncertain of how I might react, and places a hand on knee. I think it's supposed to be comforting—and in a way, it is. It's nice to know another person is here. I extend my legs out on the bed slowly until I am lying flat out. His hand stays on my knee, squeezing it warmly.

"Why did you have to come back?" I whisper hoarsely. He blinks for a second, opening his mouth to say something. But then he closes it again. I narrow my eyes. "Alright, spit."

"W-what?" he asks, confusedly.

"You keep holding out on me. I ask you a simple question, and you refuse to answer me at all." I answer, my temper spiking about one cc. "You always look like you want to say so much, but then you just shut down. So what is it? What are you hiding, Austin Moon?"

He looks at me, stricken silent and frozen, like a statue. I can't read his dead expression as he moves toward me on the bed. He only stops when he is sitting directly beside me, and our hips touch lightly. He places a tentative hand on my thigh and looks deep into my eyes, finally showing some emotion. Pain.

"If I let you in, I don't think I could ever forgive myself." he says hoarsely. "Ally," he leans closer to me. I lean away against my fluffy pillow, but he follows. His face is just a cast of shadows above me. The only things I can see clearly through the darkness are his honey coloured eyes. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

I snort. "How ironic, since you've spent the past six years making me cry and wishing I'd never laid eyes on you." I shoot sardonically.

His eyes fall to my legs, ashamed. He rubs his thumb gently in my thigh, pressing down only slightly. "No, you don't get it. If I let you in…" he swallows and looks back up to me. "The past six years would be nothing compared to how much I would hurt you."

I don't even notice as he inches closer to me until he places a slight hand on my shoulder. He is looking at me through his long lashes inches from mine. His face looks so… _hungry_ as he watches me. The shadows across his face make the shivers across my body even more prominent.

"You act like I'm a child." I say.

"I know you're not a child." He says huskily. I crinkle my nose at the tone. My fingers curl around the comforter, gripping it for dear life.

"Then stop treating me like it." I spit. At least, I _try_ to spit it. I don't think I do it very well, though. He shakes his head furiously, catching my cheek with the hand that was previously on my shoulder.

"No," he breathes gutturally.

"No?" I ask.

"No." he repeats, drawing me closer. I can feel his breath on my lips now. No, more than that, I can almost feel his _lips_ on them. Almost.

And then, well, what happens next, I would _like_ to blame on the fact that I am terrified beyond sanity right now. However, I cannot tell a lie. He is an angel; plain and simple.

He kisses me passionately—_hungrily_, even, like he needs this. His hands wrap around my neck and my fingers tangle in his floppy blonde hair. My eyes, which are still open, search his for some kind of emotion. But all I see are shadows of the colour I know is there. I am still searching the shadows when my eyes flutter shut, and his hands slide from my neck down to my waist.

As he moves his hand, the tips of his fingers just brush against the exposed skin between my jeans and my hoodie. For some reason I am none too eager to find out, shocks of electricity hit me in that exact spot. I tighten my hands in his hair and pull him closer—as close as I can, I think. He swings his legs onto my bed, so we are entangled together in an overwhelming pair of passion and fear.

He starts to lean forward slowly, making me slide down on my pillow until I lay flat out on my bed and he is lying on top of me. His lips start to explore my cheeks fervently, and I don't even think twice about letting him. This is surprising, but not as surprising as the smile that tugs at the corner of my lips, probably already swollen. This feels… nice. No—it feels amazing as his lips kiss my cheeks and find their way back to my lips with even more fire than before.

My heart races in my chest so quickly and so loudly, I swear he can feel/hear it without a problem.

And then something happens to me.

I like to call it a _Realizing-What-The-Fuck-I'm-Doing_ moment.

I disentangle my fingers from his admittedly very soft hair, plant them firmly on his shoulders, and shove him off me. There is a sickening _mwah_ sound as our lips are ripped apart abruptly.

Austin is thrown off my bed and lands on the floor with a loud _thud_, followed by his inevitable protests.

"What the _hell_ was that?" he says loudly and angrily, standing up off my carpeted floor, rubbing his left elbow.

"It's called a hint." I spit—yes, I actually spit it this time—as I sit up on my bed, flattening down my mussed up hair. "I suggest you take it before my dad comes home."

"Ooh, pulling the daddy card, are we?" he says, sitting down on the edge of my bed again. "How mature of you."

I shove him off my bed again with my foot, and drawing my knees close to my chest for protection. "Austin." I say, barely controlling my temper.

"Yes?" he snaps, standing from the floor, this time rubbing my blue-jeaned sitter.

"Get out." I say.

"What—"

"I said. Get. _Out!_" I yell the last word as my temper finally breaks. His shadow turns rigid and frozen, like he is trying desperately to be a statue.

"But—" he starts.

"_NOW!_" I scream at him. No, scream is an understatement. I can only describe it as six years of bottled up sadness, bottled up hatred for one single boy being let out in a single word so forcefully, I make myself cry. The tears prickle in the backs of my eyes at first, but as soon as Austin storms from my room—with me throwing everything I can at him; books, pillows, curses, et cetera—they fall freely down my face and drip onto my comforter. I lie back down and take a ragged breath. A sob wretches my throat, and I cover my mouth with my hand.

God, what is wrong with me?

I am lying here in the suffocating darkness, sobbing because a boy just kissed me. As I think about this, more tears fall.

He just kissed me. Just like that. Like it was no big deal.

And what is more, I kissed him.

My lips feel tingly and swollen, and as I touch them tentatively, I cry even harder. My first kiss and it's with the devil's spawn in an angelically handsome body. My heart feels like it's been torn into a thousand pieces and scattered all around the universe. I don't know what it is in me that is forming these tears.

A memory flashes in my mind—distant, just barely there—but I can see it. When I was thirteen, a brown-haired kid dumped a whole carton of chocolate milk on my head in the middle of the cafeteria. I don't know who he is. I don't want to. But I do know that while the entire school threw insults and slanders at me, reducing me to tears in a matter of seconds, a blonde-haired kid helped me off the floor and out of the cafeteria. I couldn't see him—his Miami Dolphins cap was pulled too low over his face for me to see him clearly. But he led me to the girl's bathroom, shielding me as other people threw their trash and leftover foods at me, pushed me in, and left.

I never saw him again.

I cried that night the same way I am crying now. Totally and utterly broken.

For some reason, my last thought as I fall asleep, still crying is, '_what is Ethan going to say?_'

Ω

I am woken sometime around midnight by the distant ringing of my phone. Once again, I am too stupid and too groggy to check the caller ID before I flip it open and snap, "What?"

"_It's a good thing your boyfriend is gone._" A husky, static voice growls gutturally into the receiver. I shiver. "_Now you're ours._"

And the phone falls dead for a third time that night. I snap the phone shut, my hands shaking. I put it back on my bedside table where it was, and lie back down numbly.

I stare up at the ceiling for the longest time, watching the flashes of brilliant light from the lightning still striking outside my window.

I don't want to fall asleep again. All I want is the opportunity to go back in time—to stop myself from kicking Austin out. I wish he had stayed.

I wish he had stayed with me.

Ω

The next time I wake, I am certain it's going to be my last. Strong hands clasp around my wrists, pinning me to my bed. I blink groggily, but the power is still out. The storm has stopped, so there are no frequent flashes of lightning for light.

"Hey, Ally." A husky growl tickles my ear. I freeze. "I thought you would have been waiting up for us." I can hear the voice—obviously male—smiling wickedly beside me.

"Who—who are you?" I ask, terrified for the answer.

The guttural voice laughs darkly. "That is unimportant at the moment."

I gulp nervously. "Are you going to kill me?" I feel stupid asking this, but I have to know.

"No. we're just going to have a little fun." The voice chuckles, along with two other people.

Holy shit I'm going to die.

I try to focus my eyes, but I can't see anything through the sickening darkness. Then I realize—there is a blindfold over my eyes. I struggle and try to wrench my hands out the overpowering grip.

"Stop struggling." A voice says. This one is different. It's still male, but pitchier, like he is just finishing puberty.

Hands seize me by the shoulders and heave me up into a sitting position. I don't stop struggling. I keep thrashing my shoulders about, hoping to knock my attackers away. To no avail. The hands just crash down on my shoulders and hold me still.

The hands haul me up until I am standing. I sway a little, still tried, but the hands steady me. They lead me forward until my bare foot hits something hard on the floor.

"Now step up." The husky voice is back, purring in my ear. I take a deep breath and step up onto the hard object. "Good." The voice sounds pleased. The hands let go of my shoulders, and feet shuffle away. I could consider myself free right now, but I know I'm far from it. I could lash out, but there is no telling how far away they are, where they are, how many there are, or even if they have any weapons. I shiver at the thought.

"Now, Ally. We're going to play a little game." The husky voice—who I have decided is the ringleader—says. "It's called Truth or Fall. The rules are quite simple. We're going to ask you some questions. You answer them as truthfully as possible. If we feel like you're lying to us, we're going to push you. For where?" he chuckles. "You'll just have to wait to find out."

Feet shuffle all around me, and I immediately know I am surrounded. "Question one: what is your IQ?" I grit my teeth. I don't want to answer this. "Eh?"

"One-forty-three." I spit.

"Impressive." The ringleader says. "Question two: what is your favourite class?"

"Biology." I say.

"Good. Question three: have you ever been kissed?" I freeze. I can just imagine the ringleader smiling maliciously. He waits for a long minute before furthering. "What's wrong, Ally? You look nervous. It's just one little question."

"No." I say.

"Boys, I think Ally here is lying to us." The ringleader says. I strong push comes from my right. I am taken off guard. I fall off the rise, my heart beating sharply in my ears. Hands seize my shoulders and push me back onto the rise.

"Thank you." The ringleader says. "Now, feel like telling the truth?"

My palms become slippery with sweat. I wipe them nervously on my jeans thighs. "Y-yes." I squeak stubbornly. "I-I have."

"There." The ringleader sounds sadistically pleased. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Voices grunt in compliance from all directions. "On to question four: who was the lucky guy?"

My throat closes. The pressure of Austin's lips returns to mine as a ghost of the past, wrenching my heart as I think about it. I blurt out the first name that comes to mind. "Ethan." '_Ethan is going to kill me for this_.' I think to myself wryly.

Every person in the room bursts into loud laughter. The ringleader replies, "You do know Ethan is gay, right?"

"I had no idea." I say as sweetly and as innocently as I can. He doesn't buy it.

"You're not being very sportsman like." He says. I can hear the pouting of his lip. It irritates me. Another sharp push comes, from behind this time. I fall forward, my pulse racing. Adrenaline drips into my veins. I put my hands forward to catch myself. I don't need this, though. Hands catch me by the shoulders and push me back up onto the rise. "Ready to play fair, Ally?"

"I hate you." I say acidly.

"I can live with that." He says simply. "Question four _again_: who was it?"

"Austin." I whisper hoarsely, too low for anyone to hear, but not low enough to keep me from hearing it myself. I wince.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" he teases. He knows full well who it is.

I clear my throat. "A-Austin." I repeat.

The people around me chuckle. I wipe my hands again on my legs, but that doesn't help. "Good, good." The ringleader says laughingly. "Question five: did you like it?"

They are just torturing me now. I know they are. "No." I struggle. I know without thinking that this is the most obvious lie I've told all night. The ringleader knows this as well. He snaps his fingers sharply. The sound rings and echoes in my ears, making me flinch.

Two pushes come this time. The first from my right. I fall, but catch myself surprisingly gracefully. The second push takes me off guard, and I am not quite so lucky. The push comes from behind again, and I fall to my knees. Pain shoots up and down my legs, and I cry out in pain. Hands have to drag me punching wildly to my feet and back onto the rise.

"I am going to ask you _one more time_." The ringleader sounds close to breaking and slapping me. "Did. You. Like. It?"

My heart beats loudly in my ears as I hear myself answer. "Yes."

There is a lapse of silence, from which I guess to be the ringleader thinking of question six. Finally, he speaks again. "Question six," I wait for the gut wrenching question to come and rip my heart out of my chest. But it doesn't come. "What is your favourite T.V. show?"

"Um…" I think about this for a second. "_Suburgatory_." I say definitively.

"Question seven: what is your favourite animal?" he says.

"The Jesus Lizard." I reply. I can feel my anticipation building. '_Where is it? Where is the question?_'

"Question eight: what is your favourite accent?"

"Irish." I say. By now, I am just about going out of my mind, trying to figure out his angle. It would be easier if I could see him, but for now, I just have to go on his tones and classic interrogation techniques.

"Question nine: do you like him?" There it is. My stomach falls out from under me.

I take a deep, controlling breath. "I…" the pressure builds behind my eyes. I can feel the tears and the sobs surfacing again.

Before I can finish, I am cut off by a shrill, girly scream, mixed with the undertone of gravely. A loud thud, and what sounds to be slaps. Punches, kicks, and God knows what else. I stand where I am, frozen in fear of what the hell is going on.

Hands snake around my arms and lift me off the rise. They push me. I stumble back until my back thuds against the wall painfully. I slide down the wall and hug my knees to my chest. Screams and cries of pain sound all through my bedroom. People are being thrown against my walls. Pictures clatter in their frames. Slaps and punches ring in my ears.

The last things I hear in the extreme are the shuffling of feet, and my door slamming shut. I sit where I am for several minutes of penetrating silence, wondering why I can no longer hear anything. Have I gone deaf? Have I fallen unconscious? Am I dead? Is death this merciless? According to Dante, it is. "_Abandon all hope, ye who enter here…_"

Tears sting my eyes as I think about this. Abandon hope… of everything. I have no hope… I let go of all hope the second I walked through the gates of hell—a.k.a. the front doors of C.S. Lewis high school.

The door clicks open again, and feet shuffle over to in front of me. I curl into myself tighter and duck my head. I slowly slide off my blindfold and look around the room. Everything is messed up. My bed sheets are strewn everywhere, and the pictures on my wardrobe have been smashed and dropped on the ground. There is a wooden, three-legged milking stool in the middle of the room. I know it is where I was being shoved off of. I wonder where they got a traditional Dutch milkmaid's stool.

Directly in front of me kneels Austin, watching me, concerned. When I meet his eyes, they soften and fill with concern. Slowly, his arms snake around me and pick me up. He stands with me in his arms bridal style. I let him hold me, numbly looking around. I knew it wasn't just a prank.

"W-what are you doing here?" I ask. He lowers his head to me.

"I promised I wouldn't let them hurt you." He whispers seductively. His lips hover millimetres above mine, and I have a sudden flashback to earlier. Prickles of heat hit my vertebrates.

"No, I mean, how did you know I would be here?" I say. His gaze steels over protectively, and I know my answer. "You knew what they were going to do." I accuse him. He lifts his head from above mine and regards me coldly.

"Ally—" he starts.

"You knew what they were planning." I repeat more forcefully, and my full of that good old fashioned hostility and distain we all know and love.

He swallows. "I—"

I drop my weight downward suddenly, making myself slip out of his arms and onto the floor. "I thought I told you to get out."

"Ally…" he starts. He grabs hold of my hand lightly, but I wrench it out of his grasp.

"I said get out!" I shriek.

"Just calm down—" he tries to say soothingly, holding his hands up in a surrendering manner.

"_Don't_ tell me to calm down, you overinflated man-child!" I snap, practically screaming. "Just get out of my room—and while you're at it, get _out of my life!_"

He lets his hands drop to his sides, and his jaw tightens. His eyes are clouding over dangerously, and for a second, I am unsure of what he is going to do. There are a million possibilities. He could slap me. He could punch me. He could roundhouse kick me in the temple. He could pull out a lightsaber and cut me in two perfect halves. He could kiss me. He could pull out a gun and shoot me, and then be unable to live with the guilt and shoot himself. There are a million ways this could play out.

But then, he does the very last thing I ever thought I would see him do—he leaves. He storms out of my room. I wait about a minute, and I hear my front door slamming shut. I wince as the door crashes onto its frame, and then stand there, frozen.

My face slowly falls into sadness as the adrenaline drips from my system, and my heart rate turns back to normal. I don't know what just happened. One minute, we are arguing like we do on a daily basis, and the next, he is out of my life for good. And there is a hole in my chest where there shouldn't be a hole.

It is a giant hole, right in my heart—about the size of Austin _freaking_ Moon.

* * *

**So. How was it? Good? Bad? Horrible? Fantabulicious? Yeah, it's a word. Look it up on Urban Dictionary. And I love the Jesus Lizard, Suburgatory, Irish accents, and _The Divine Comedy _by Dante. Anyways, some of you guys noticed I didn't put "Austin freaking Moon" at the end of part 1. I am sorry about this. I actually forgot about it. So put this at the end: "_I never thought I would need protection from one Austin freaking Moon._" **

**Notes!**

**-"**OMG the cliffhanger was somewhat creepy. I wonder what's gonna happen to Ally and why did Austin even say "I won't let them hurt you"? Please update soon!": **Because he wanted to save her! Thank you!  
**-Jenni:** I actually don't know if Trish is going to be in this story. I'm going to try and put her in in a few chapters, bu no promises. Thanks!  
**-Stephanie-chibi:** Wow... when I read this... I almost cried. Seriously, I had to punch a wall to feel manly again. No, but all jokes aside, you are an amazing person for this. I know how it is with best friends. If Jullia (my best friend) ever got cancer, or even the flu... I have no idea what I would do. So thank you for restoring my faith in humanity. Thanks. And tell your friend I really hope she gets better.  
**-Sydney and Melody:** Thanks for wishing me luck on my ISUs and exams!  
**-DisneychannelwatcherWow:** No, it's summer school. And they pick on her because they do; she is the school punching bag.  
**-Dimples:** Yes, I am very satisfied! Thank you! No, Ally was not raped, and she never will be because I don't roll like that. Thanks!  
**-Hi There:** It will probably never stop. She may be. You will have to see. You'll have to wait to see (I will have Austin explain it). Thanks!  
**

**Thank you guys, and keep on reading and reviewing like you do!**

**KR Blake Ω**


	11. Idiots In The Caf

Chapter ten: Idiots In The Caf

* * *

"_Why you keep trying to seek and encounter with me, lady? The only best thing I can do to stay alive now is to be invisible." _

― _Toba Beta, My Ancestor Was an Ancient Astronaut_

* * *

The next day, I am running on autopilot. I didn't sleep a wink last night. My parents came home at about one in the morning, giggling and laughing. I saw the taxi roll out of our drive, so I knew they were piss ass drunk. In a way, that was a relief. I'd have some time to compose myself before they sobered up.

I drag myself out of bed this morning; dress myself in a pair of dark skinny jeans and a white cotton t-shirt, and pull a green hoodie over top. I walk downstairs numbly and entre the kitchen to see my parents in a gross embrace. I stifle the vomit rising in my throat. Not just from their embrace, but from the fact that they're still drunk from the night before.

I grab my backpack from beside the front door and walk out, ignoring the low rumbling in my stomach; I hadn't eaten since the Smarties I had feasted on last night while watching _Friends_. I sling the bag over my shoulder and walk down the streets. The November air is crisp and smells of the first pumpkin pies of the Thanksgiving season. I let myself smile momentarily as I sniff the air. The events of last night are gone from my mind for this moment, and I think about Thanksgiving on the twenty-second. My whole family is coming from Tallahassee and Jacksonville.

I shake my head of these happy thoughts and continue on my soul crushing walk to school. With every step I take closer to C.S. Lewis, I feel my frown deepen and my mood sink down another kilometre.

By the time I push through the front doors, I am pretty much walking to kill. Who I kill—well, that depends on who talks to me first.

I walk through the halls with my ear buds in my ears, blasting Paul McCartney into my head.

"_Live and let die…_" **[1]**

I walk up the back staircase and to locker 2352. As I spin the dial, the song changes from Paul McCartney to a recording of one of my older songs.

"_You're always on my mind,  
I think about you all the time…  
Um, no._" **[2]**

I scowl at the words, pulling out my iPod, and nearly breaking the touch screen as I switch to a perfectly harmless Allstar Weekend song.

"_Every Clock is tickin' faster;  
Takin' trips around the sun.  
Another year, another chapter,  
5 and 4 and 3 and 2 and 1…_" **[3]**

I stuff the iPod back into my hoodie pocket and open the locker door. I tense, waiting for the crude note or the curdled milk or whatever to topple out of the locker and onto my shirt front. But nothing happens. I scowl deeper and grab my books.

A sudden soft tap on my shoulder makes me jump. I turn slowly, expecting to see Austin or someone like him. Instead, Cassidy stands behind me, watching me nervously, biting her lip. I crinkle my nose slightly as I remember the last time I saw her—shirtless and attached to Austin by her lips.

"Hey," she says.

I glance around quickly, but there is no one else. She's talking to me. "Hey." I reply curtly.

"So listen…" she starts, but falls off her train quickly. She thinks for a second before continuing. "I hate to bring this up, but you remember that last time we…um…saw each other?" her crystalline eyes fall to the ground, ashamed. My cheeks heat a little.

"Yeah." I nod, shutting the locker door behind me.

"I…haven't talked to Austin since…" she is just barely speaking audibly now. She wrings her fingers together nervously. "And…I've just been thinking…I don't know…"

"Whether or not you made the right choice by running off?" I complete as I start walking down the hall. She follows beside me, giving me a questioning look. "Austin told me what happened." I explain. She nods.

"Yeah. So…you guys seem really close." She says. I stifle a snort of disgust at that. "Do you…do you think I should talk to him? Give him another chance?"

My mouth dries for a second as I think about what she just said. She was asking me for advice…on a guy I hate…and asking if she should give him another chance…

Is she serious?

I look over to her quickly. She is watching me with her blue eyes. I think about this for a second, rubbing my mouth. On one side of the coin, Cassidy is a really nice person. She's an amazing singer; her band plays at shows all over Florida for a reason. She's very beautiful, and really smart. She was best in music, but only the smart people can excel like _that_ in music.

So do I really want to tell her she should go for it, and risk all that being eaten alive by the monster that is Austin Moon?

But on the flip, what do I care? I hope she goes back to that scumbag, they date through high school, and while she is at college, and he is working full-time at MacDonald's, they keep up a successful long distance relationship. Then they get hitched and have thirteen kids that all form a band and sing around the campfire, blowing on their jugs and strumming their taped up banjos while wearing jean coveralls and one boot each.

…What the hell did I just think…?

I must have been out for longer than I thought. "Oh." Cassidy says flatly, snapping me out of my petty and albeit slightly jealous thoughts. "Oh, s-sorry." She says. I look at her, confused.

"For what?" I ask.

"I'm such an idiot." She says under her breath, scolding herself. "I should have known you liked him."

If I had been drinking something right then, I would have done a classic spit-take all over the hallway. I stared at her, wide-eyed. "Ex-excuse me?" I stutter.

Cassidy blinked at her innocently. "Well you like him, right?"

"_No!_" I say hurriedly. "_No, no, no!_" I shake my head profusely, making my brown curls bounce around my shoulders and whip me in the face.

Cassidy just raises a light eyebrow. She snorts. "Funny." She says slyly. "I can totally see you two."

And with that, she takes off down the hall, leaving me in her dust, staring at the back of her head as it disappears around the corner. My mouth falls open. That little…

Ω

I walk into Am His to see Ms. Lewis already seated at her desk. She is concentrating on papers strewn all over her desk. Her dark hair spills over her shoulders, creating a shield around her face. I can just see her eyes flick up to me as I pass by her desk.

"Good morning, Ally." She murmurs from her chair. "How did you sleep?"

I stop and glare at her. "_Don't_ talk to me." I say. She looks up at me slowly, shocked, but I have already plugged back into my iPod. Travelling too far away to try and find a bother to give.

Ω

Austin keeps true to his silent vow to stay out of my life. For the rest of the week, he doesn't so much as glance my way when we pass in the hallways. His friends have to take up the torch on torturing me, since he seems to have lost interest in all things Allyson Elizabeth Dawson.

Which is good.

Right?

Wrong. I am going out of my mind by Thursday at second period, exactly one period after talking to Cassidy. I already know more than my teachers—and what is more important, they know it—so I don't need to listen. All I have to do is replay last night in my mind over and over again. Every time my mind turns to Austin, my lips tingle and I nearly fall out of my chair.

During psychology, I go to my last resort: my songbook.

_What the hell, diary? _

_I have no idea what I am doing. I'm sitting in psych, going out of my mind all because of one stupid, annoying, belligerently idiotic boy with dreamy eyes and a halo of hair I would like nothing better than to rip out of his perfect little head! _

_What the hell is wrong with me? _

_I don't think like this. _

_Lírica:_ **[4]**

_-you, with your words like knives and your swords and your weapons that you use against_ me. **[5]**

I shut my book with a huff and slip it into the bag at my feet. I try to focus on the lesson about the Salem witch trials, but my mind keeps phasing back to an old lesson we learned in September: teenage infatuations and how they affect the mind.

Ω

Friday is silent. Nothing. Like the calm before the storm, in high school terms. It sucks, but I know it is just about to suck even more.

Saturday afternoon, I lay flat out on my bed with my phone pressed to my ear and my door locked; like hell I'd let my parents hear this conversation. I sigh, rubbing my forehead with my one free hand, and say for the tenth time in an hour, "Look, it isn't such a big deal. These things happen all the time."

"Are you kidding me?" Ethan explodes through the receiver, making me hold the phone away from my ear so I don't go deaf. "This is _huge!_ My friend has _kissed_ Austin Moon!"

"Okay, I am just about to come over to your house and kick your ass." I say bluntly into the phone.

"Whatever." Ethan replies. "So how was it?"

I groan. "No comment."

"Ooh, he left you speechless, did he?" Ethan practically squealed like a little girl meeting Justin Beiber. "Was it that good?"

"I don't know. How was your first kiss with Winston?" I ask. He sighs audibly on the other end of the line.

"I don't even know how to describe it." He says wistfully.

"See, now take that and multiply it by, like, a zillion," I say. "And then you're _about_ where I am right now."

"Wow, you are one messed up girl."

"Tell me about it." I groan again. "Now can we get back on topic: what do I do?"

"Well…do you want to know what I would do or what you will probably end up doing?" he asks. I think about this for a second.

"What would you do?" I finally decide.

"Okay, go to the black-market at the end of Miami beach. It's this little hut covered by some rocks, run by an old man named Sharon. Tell him you would like to look in the X-rated section. Now get out a pen and piece of paper, because here's where it gets complicated. He'll show you a variety of—"

"_Okay I change my mind!_" I shriek into the phone, terrified at what he was about to say. Actually, I think I'm more terrified that my one and only friend has ties to a black-market X-rated store. "Just tell me what I'll probably do."

He chuckles into the phone. "First, riddle me this, Dawson: why do you care?"

"Because…" I start, before my brain falters. Why _do_ I care? "Because I do!" I finish hurriedly before he can say anything else. This just causes him to chuckle again.

"Thought so." I can hear the smirk in his voice. "So my advice: figure yourself out, and then ask him about it. Plain and simple."

"That's it?" I ask incredulously. "That's all it takes to figure out guys?"

"Yeah," Ethan lets out a breath. "We're much easier than you girls—that is, to figure out, I mean." He adds quickly, before I can point out what he just said.

"Hey, just let us win at _Twilight Princess_, and we're good." I say breezily. He laughs, and in the distance, I hear his mom call him.

"I gotta go." He says in a monotone. "I have to help Dez cut the grass."

"'Kay." I say. "And Ethan?"

"Yeah?" he asks.

"Thanks." I say hoarsely. "For everything."

"What are best friends for?" he simply says before shutting his phone. I stare at the screen as it blinks; telling me Ethan has ended the call. I shut the phone almost numbly and turn my face to the ceiling. Time to do some thinking.

Ω

Monday, my life takes a turn for the worse. And by turn, I mean off a cliff. Into the ocean. And eaten by a sea monster. That's then eaten by another sea monster.

I slept in this morning, so I had to skip breakfast if I didn't want to be late for Am His.

So that is why during lunch period, I stand patiently in line in the caf **[7]**, waiting my turn to order a bowl of pasta and chocolate milk. I can hear two niner girls behind me, snickering over some kind of private joke between them and roll my eyes. The guys in front of me keep glancing back and winking at the girls, making them giggle and snicker uncontrollably for about a minute afterwards. I have to ball my hands into fists to keep from slapping some sense into them. Or just plain slapping them.

Everything seems to be getting on my nerves today.

The line moves forward slowly, and after about five more minutes of suffering between the flirting niners, I approach the counter and order my food. The balding lunch lady hands me my pasta bowl and chocolate milk with a hidden smile of encouragement and nods me to the cash register. I pay for my food, and start my walk of shame to the doors.

People holler rude things at me like "_Loser!_" and "_No one wants you here!_". As I walk down the middle aisle, someone catches my hand. I try to wrench it away, but the person is too strong.

"_Miss me?_" a husky voice breathes in my ear. I gasp, my hand tightening around my carton of chocolate milk.

The voice that has been haunting me since Halloween.

Is in my school caf.

I slowly turn to see a kid standing behind me, only a few inches taller than me, smiling like the joker, '_why so serious?_' and all. I look him up and down. He's a normal enough looking kid, in designer jeans and a blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark brown hair is styled in a perfectly jelled Beiber bob. Not a crinkle or hair is out of place on him. It never is.

"D-Dallas?" I whisper in shock. Dallas' grin widens evilly.

"At your service, babe." He winks. I am too petrified to react. I am staring face to face with my newest tormentor that has surpassed even Austin on the annoyance scale. And that's pretty damn hard to do. "We had fun on Halloween."

"W-wh-we?" I stammer. Dallas flicks his eyes over his right shoulder, and I see three people standing behind him, smirking. The first person I see is a short girl with a shock of black hair and dyed electric blue bangs. Her pale face is covered with freckles and an evil grin. I think she's in Am His with me. Ridley, I think her name is.

The guy beside Ridley is average enough. He kind of resembles a mouse, but not in a bad way. He has soft brown hair and upturned eyebrows, and a tiny little nose on his sickly pale face. I think his name is Jordan, but I can't be sure; he's never been in any of my classes. I'd seen him a couple of times behind Austin, but never really up-close.

The final boy is probably the scariest of their group, save Dallas. He looks the same as he did last year in my geography class; white-blonde hair and washed-out green eyes on his incredibly angular face. He's always been a scrawny and creepy looking dude. It takes me a moment remember his name—mainly because I try not to remember the names of all my tormentors—but finally it comes back to me; Trevor.

"How was your Halloween?" Trevor sneers in his annoying pubescent tone, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ours was fabulous."

"Right it was, Trev." Dallas holds his hand out for Trevor to high-five. "How was yours?"

I shrug, trying to not let on how scared I am. "It was Halloween."

"Really?" he says, faking interest. "Because I heard somewhere—I can't for the life of me remember where—that you had _quite the night_ with someone. Now who was it again, Rid?" he looks back to Ridley, who rubs her chin thoughtfully.

"Adam…no…Asher…no…" she lists names, like she's trying to pinpoint his, but I know full well by her taunting tone that she knows who it is. Suddenly, she gasps. "That's right, it was _Austin_." she grins viciously.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I say through gritted teeth.

"Come now, Ally, you know exactly what we're talking about." Jordan finally speaks in a tiny voice. "We know how much fun you had with Blondie."

"Perhaps the school would like to see the evidence." Dallas says considerably. "Trev?"

"Yeah?" Trevor says.

"You got your phone?" Dallas asks him. In answer, Trevor slips an iPhone out of his Armani jeans pocket and waves it in the air tauntingly. "Good. You know what to do."

Trevor taps a few buttons on the iPhone, and a loud static sound come from behind me. I turn just in time to see the large monitor hanging on the wall of the caf turn on, and flip to a dark scene. It's hard to see; the director is not very good. But you can clearly see three people standing around a blindfolded girl on a milking stool. I don't have to think to know that the blindfolded girl is me, and the four people around me are Dallas, Ridley, and Jordan, and that Trevor is standing in front of me, filming.

The caf quietens as people turn their attention to the monitor.

The T.V. Dallas starts. '_Question one: what is your IQ?_' **[6]**

I turn to Dallas. "Turn it off." I say angrily.

"Aw, come on, Ally, have a little fun sometimes!" Dallas says evilly. "Enjoy the show!"

'_One-forty-three_.' The T.V. Ally replies. '_Question two: what is your favourite subject?_'

"I said turn it off!" I repeat, a little more loudly this time. Dallas chuckles and covers his chest with his bulky arms.

"You heard the girl, Trev. Turn it up." He laughs. He knows that's not what I said. Trevor taps a button, and the monitor automatically turns up its volume.

'_Biology_.' The T.V. Ally says. I know what is coming next. Students all around us are staring from the monitor to the five of us in the centre aisle. The teachers are noticing, too. The Com Tech teacher is storming out of the caf, probably up to the A.V. room to shut off the monitor. Two others are making their way towards us, pushing kids out of their way left, right, and centre.

'_Question three: have you ever been kissed?_' the students in the caf "_Oooh!_" loudly. I have to resist the urge to flip them off, and turn back to Dallas.

"Last chance, Dallas. Turn. It. Off!" I say loudly.

'_What's wrong, Ally? You look nervous. It's just one little question._' The T.V. Dallas says.

"Here comes my favourite part." Ridley smirks.

'_Y-yes. I-I have_.' The T.V. Ally stutters. My cheeks burn bright crimson as the caf erupts into laughter. The teachers have reached us by now, and are trying to pry the iPhone away from Trevor. He just swats their hands away and continues to laugh at the monitor.

'_Question four: who was the lucky guy?_' the T.V. Dallas says. My pulse races. They won't find out. I won't let them.

I throw my food onto the floor of the caf in anger and stomp my foot. "Turn it off!" I yell. Dallas just flicks me on the forehead painfully. I look at him, astonished.

The T.V. Ally mutters her response, and the T.V. Dallas says, '_I'm sorry, what was that?_'

Just as T.V. Ally is repeating, '_Austin_', I scream, "_Turn it off!_" in Dallas' face and plant my hands firmly on his shoulder and push him. He is taken by surprise and falls back onto Jordan. Jordan catches him easily, and pushes him back up.

I stand there, frozen in shock. The teachers have stopped trying to get Trevor's iPhone, and look at me, their mouths hanging open. The students either double over laughing or gasp loudly. I think some of them heard my answer to question number four, and I know without a doubt that it will be all over school within ten minutes.

With tears pooling behind my eyes, I turn around and push my way through the crowded caf, pushing away the hands trying to catch me.

Ω

"I just don't see how Ally could have done this." Mom says confusedly, shaking her head at the principal, Professor Richmond. He likes us to call him Prof, and we do, just to keep him off our backs.

I sit in the principal's office between mom and dad after school, my head hung in shame. Prof has just finished telling mom and dad what happened in the caf in _excruciating detail_. My head had bowed lower and lower until the story had finished, and mom and dad were staring at me in shock.

"Well, Mrs. Dawson, we've noticed Ally's behaviour this year has…" Prof leans forward on his large wooden desk and waves his hands, trying to find the right words. "Changed. Skipping class, getting into heated arguments with the students, snapping at the teachers, fighting the students."

"Hey, I never fought Dallas, and he started it!" I cut in heatedly.

"Allyson, manners!" mom hisses, glaring at me. I shrink down in my seat and turn back to Prof.

"You see, Mr. and Mrs. Dawson, I've talked to Allyson's teachers," Prof starts. I wince as he says my full name. "And we've come to the conclusion that maybe Allyson is not… mature enough to attend Florida State University next fall."

"_What!_" I shriek, standing from my seat. "How am I not mature enough?" I demand.

"Allyson, sit down!" dad says sharply. I glare at him for a second before sinking back down into my seat. I clutch the metal legs of the simple classroom chair tightly.

"Well, her teachers and I have talked this through," Prof continues. "And, while we cannot strip her of her scholarship, we can call a University scout to evaluate her." I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up a stubby hand to cut me off. "I am sorry it has come to this, Allyson, but perhaps it will be for the best for you to return to C.S. Lewis high school in the fall."

I look deep into his cold gray eyes. He isn't sorry; he's nowhere near sorry. I keep the class averages up. I give the school a good face. I ace all the state mandated tests. I win all the academic decathlons. I'm like catnip for principals. I'm principal-nip.

"There is no way in hell I am coming back here in the fall." I breathe dangerously. Mom tries to cut in, but I don't let her. I have to get this out before I lose my temper. "This place is a hellhole, and I'll be damned if I come back here in September."

"Yes, but Allyson, you're only fifteen. That is much too young—" Prof starts calmly, ignoring the fact that I just trashed his school.

"I _know_ I'm fifteen. Who the hell cares? If that's old enough to be tormented and harassed for _six years_ without you half-wits noticing, then I am sure I'm old enough for university." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know they're the wrong ones. Mom and dad gape at me like I just said I'm pregnant, and Prof turns beet red in the face.

I close my eyes in frustration, waiting for it to start. The "_what_"s and the "_how_"s and the "_who_"s. The questions I don't want to answer.

I never told my parents about school. It would have brought me too much unwanted attention. I figured I could just wait it out. There were plenty other people with worse problems than me and a few people at school having disagreements over my intellect and my sexual preference and whether I eat fetal children and whatnot.

But the questions don't come; only silence. Mom and dad are still gaping at me, but Prof's face has lost a bit of its red pallor. He no longer looks like a tomato in a bad toupee; he just looks like… an unripe tomato in a bad toupee.

I push up from my chair suddenly, wincing as the metal scrapes against the linoleum floors. Mom stands after me and lifts her arms to hug me. I push them away coldly and stalk out of the principal's office, slamming the door behind me. The glass reverberates visibly, but I am already gone.

I run through the halls, tears streaking my eyes now. There's no sense in trying to hide them. The school is basically boycotting my acceptance to Florida State because I'm "_not mature enough_". What does that even mean? Nothing, that's what, they just don't want the other schools to see how idiotic the rest of the school is.

I push the back doors open so hard they bang against the stone walls loudly. The fall closed, echoing in the empty yard. Except…

Austin stands on the other side of the door, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and head bowed. He almost looks like he's sleeping, but I can see the twitch in his foot. He's awake and aware. I clear my throat. He looks up slowly, his eyes growing wide when he sees my tears. He pushes off the wall and walks over to me.

"Ally—" he starts tentatively.

"Shut up, Blondie." I snap. On a stupid, rash, idiotic impulse—which seem to be my specialty today—I grab him by the collar of his leather jacket and force his lips down onto mine harshly; we'll probably both have bruised lips for days after this.

There is no stopping my tears now. It's official. I am crazy. I am terrifically, beautifully, wonderfully crazy. The only question remains; am I crazy? Or am I just crazy for one Austin freaking Moon?

* * *

**A/Ns:**

**[1]: _Live And Let Die_ by Paul McCartney. Fun fact: this is one of the James Bond theme songs! Yeah.  
[2]: We all know where this is from, but I have to say it for legal reasons. _Not A Love Song_ from A&A.  
[3]: Not Your Birthday by Allstar Weekend. Fun fact: this song was written for the movie _Prom_, where Raini Rodriguez played Tess.  
[4]: That just says "lyrics" in Spanish. I think... I don't know; I learn French in school, not Spanish.  
[5]: _Mean_ by Taylor Swift.  
[6]: I know this isn't the exact conversation, but I'm just too lazy to do the whole thing.  
[7]: Short form for cafeteria, just so you know... that's what we call the cafeteria at my school. **

**Ooh, the plot thickens! Will Ally attend Florida State, or will she be stuck in Miami for another dreadful year? What will Austin say about Ally kissing him? Stay tuned to find out, and so much more! **

**Notes!**

**-DisneychannelwatcherWow: I promise you'll find out why he can't let her in in chapter eleven! I have no idea how many chapters are left. Maybe five or six? I don't know.  
-All the reviewers who said they hate Ally: I kind of hate her, too. So don't worry; you're not alone!  
-nobodysuspicious: I find you suspicious... anyways, they just guessed when she was lying, and they asked all those random questions to torture her. Y'know, make her sweat it out waiting for the questions she hates.  
-Melody: they just hate her because they hate her. It doesn't take much more than that. It's okay; I love long reviews! They make me feel special...  
-SomethinLikeThat: Ooh, tingles! Thank you! It's okay; I have a bit of a swearing problem myself... thank you!  
-Lucylou: you'll find out next chapter!  
-Stephanie-chibi: again, thank you for restoring my faith in humanity. My brother and sister were discussing how amazing 90210 is today -_-' Anywho, thank you, and if your friend is reading this, hi! Good luck in surgery! Love you-in a platonic and over-the-internet kind of way, of course. **

**Review pweese! I love hearing what you guys thing. Also, OVER 300! That's freaking amazing! I love you!**

**-KR Blake Ω**


	12. Beach Days With The Brokenhearted

Chapter eleven: Beach Days With The Brokenhearted

* * *

"_A quiet kid is a good kid. But a quiet and invisible kid is an even better kid."_

― _Jarod Kintz, Who Moved My Choose?: An Amazing Way to Deal With Change by Deciding to Let Indecision Into Your Life_

* * *

I expect this kiss to be even more astounding than the last one. More passion, more fire, more drive. But it's cold and empty, like I'm kissing my cousin. I feel nothing. I don't know what he feels, but I can almost guarantee it is the same as me.

His hands plant firmly on my shoulders, bunching up the fabric, and push me away. My lips sting as they are torn from his so painfully I wince. I look up at him, the tears in my eyes impairing my vision. I try to move forward again, but he stops me by wrapping his hands around my arms and holding me still as I struggle.

"Ally! _Ally!_" he says, trying to get me to stop struggling. "Stop it!"

"Let go of me!" I demand loudly.

"Not until you calm down." He says calmly. "And stop kissing me." I am so upset; I don't even notice that stupidly suggestive tone behind his voice.

"I said _let go of me!_" I shriek, flailing my arms wildly, trying to knock Austin off of me. They miss him by a mile.

Suddenly, he yanks my arms down and around, wrapping them around myself, so I am pretty much hugging myself. As he does so, he also spins me and pins me against his chest. "Ally," he breathes in my ear. I can feel his hot breath on the nape of my neck. "Just calm down."

"Why should I?" I snap viciously. "Nobody cares about me in this goddamned place, so why should I do what anyone wants?"

"What?" he asks.

"Shut up." I snap. He tenses against me, and for a second, I think he is about to let me go. But he doesn't. He just loosens his grip on my arms a bit, so it doesn't hurt quite as much. I lean my head back against his chest and take a ragged breath. "I hate my parents." I mutter sadly. "I hate everyone."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he says. I shake my head, tears spilling down my cheeks and dripping onto my shirtfront. "Do you want me to go?" Again, I shake my head. He tilts his head down and rests his chin in the crook of my neck comfortingly.

I am suddenly so grateful it was him to be waiting outside, and no one else. In this moment, he feels like my crutch, keeping me up when I'm crashing and burning, broken.

Slowly, he moves his arms to the small of my back and the middle of my thighs, and lifts me up. I am still crying when he starts to walk away from school with me in his arms bridal style.

"Where are we going?" I ask through silent sobs.

"You look like you could use a getaway." He says simply, not bothering to elaborate.

Had you asked me a few months ago if I would ever let Austin Moon carry me away from school to god-knows-where, I would have scoffed in your face. But then again, I'm fairly sure I'm not the same person I was in September.

I wrap my arms around his neck and let him carry me towards the school car park in a slow procession, like he's afraid to break me even more than I already am.

Ω

I sit in the passenger seat of Austin's battered Chevy truck, staring out the window listlessly. We ride in silence side by side towards a destination I don't know. I can tell he's waiting for me to calm down and speak, but I don't know when that will be. I don't know if that will _ever_ be.

Finally, after endless minutes, I speak in a cracked, strained voice. "They said I'm not mature enough to go to Florida State."

He looks at me, shocked, out of the corner of his eye. "What?"

"Prof and my parents." I explain. "They said I'm too young to go to university. They're sending a scout to '_evaluate_' me." I put air quotations over the word evaluate.

"Well that's good, isn't it?" he asks. "You still have a chance, right?"

"No." I say flatly. "Not when it comes to university. The fact that the school is sending for a scout after I've been accepted makes the university think I'm unfit to go there." I take a shaking breath. "I've got no chance now."

He doesn't push me further than that. He just focuses on the road in front of us.

"I thought fifteen year olds couldn't drive without an adult." I say perplexedly.

"They can't." he answers. "My birthday was last month."

"Ah." I say, nodding. "Well, happy belated birthday."

I turn my head and focus on Miami whipping by outside the window. Shops, strip malls, and palm trees; everything I've seen every day since I was born. But it all looks more bland and depressed today, like I'm looking at Miami through a gray veil. Today is not one of my best days…

Ω

Ten minutes later, Austin pulls the Chevy truck into an empty parking lot beside the ocean. I look out across the empty beach, probably a mile long. It looks perfectly serene in the bright afternoon sun, warm and inviting.

"What are we doing at the beach?" I ask hoarsely.

Austin turns around to the flatbed in the back and shuffles around for a minute before pulling out a plain blue towel. "I told you; you look like you use a getaway," is all he says before hopping out of the truck and waiting for me to follow.

I slide out of the truck and follow him onto the sand, and down to a secluded spot behind a large cluster of rocks. He spreads the large towel out in front of one of the larger boulders and sits down facing the ocean. He pats the empty space beside him, gesturing for me to sit down. I slowly sink down to my knees and lean against the rock, which is surprisingly soft.

He leans against the rock as well, watching the lapping waves roll by. I take in the ocean's subtle beauty, too. The sun beats down warm, but not too hot. Just perfect. The only sounds that reach our spot are the waves and the birds squawking over our heads, gliding through the sky with ease. There is barely a cloud in the sky, and the few clouds that do roll overhead are fluffy and white. Cumulonimbus, I think.

"Wanna talk about what happened?" Austin asks solemnly. I shake my head and wipe away the last remnants of tears of my cheeks. My tear ducts ran dry a few minutes ago, so I just scowled out the window for the last portion of the drive.

Slowly, like he thinks I might stab him if he moved too suddenly, he wraps his arm around my shoulder and brings me closer to his side. I lean my head against his shoulder gratefully.

We stay quiet like this for an endless time, unmoving. I find myself thinking of the company dinner back in September. He had said he wanted to be a singer. He sounded so hopeful, so carefree in that moment. Unlike I'd ever seen him in six years.

"Sing to me." I whisper coarsely before I can stop myself. I tense, thinking I've just blown this—whatever "_this_" is. But all he does is wring a lock of my hair around his pointer finger, and begin singing.

"_It's summertime,  
and you are all that's on my mind,  
every day.  
It seems like we,  
could stay up and talk through the night…_" **[1]**

It's not a song I've heard before, but I love it. It's slow and melodious, sweet and mellifluous. Or maybe it's just the song's performer.

"_Running around,  
When I'm around,  
Just say you'll stay._" **[2]**

He finishes the song, which I have gathered to be titled, _Say You'll Stay_.

"Thank you." I whisper to him, another bout of tears threatening to fall again. He plays with the lock of hair around his fingers for a few more minutes, before I finally feel like I am composed enough to tell him what happened. I figure he has the right to know, as he'll probably be bombarded with questions tomorrow at school.

"It was Dallas that called on Halloween." I say, even though I know he is already aware. "He got Trevor to film the whole thing, and they somehow rigged the monitor in the caf to play the tape." I wait for him to say something, but when he doesn't, I continue. "They got to question four, and I… I lost it. I pushed Dallas. He wasn't hurt, but still, I pushed him. I was sent to Prof's office during calculus, and my mom and dad were already there. It took the rest of school for him to explain what had happened."

"And then they told you they'd be calling a scout from Florida State?" he guesses. I nod.

"Yeah." I say, my voice strained. "Then I totally flipped out on them and left."

"What did you say?" he asks. I shrug nonchalantly. "The standard stuff. You know, if I'm old enough to be harassed for six years without anyone noticing, then I'm old enough to go to university. That kind of thing."

He nods heedlessly. He doesn't ask more questions for a while. We just stare out to the ocean, both of us focusing on different parts of it. I focus on the crashing waves, powerful and roaring. I can't be certain of what he is focussing on, but I think it is the sand, undisturbed and unadulterated. Finally, he speaks again. "How do you deal with it?"

"With what?" I reply.

"With everything. The rumors; the laughter; the dirty looks; everything everyone does to you." He elaborates, looking down at me for the first time since we sat down nearly twenty minutes ago. "How do you deal with it for so long?"

I think about this for a second before answering, "I don't know. I think… I think a while ago, I stopped trying to stop them. I let them have their fun and games, and I just make sure I know they're lying." I pause, taking a deep breath. "Of course, that's not always easy. But… I think the hardest part about it is that no one even bothered to get my point of view. They just jumped to believing everyone except me. They didn't bother to get to know me."

I hold out my bare left forearm for him to see. I point to an invisible scar near my elbow. "I tried to cut myself once, when I was eleven. I got out about half a drop of blood before I freaked and threw the knife away. Never tried again."

"That sucks." He says, blowing out a breath.

I shrug, letting my arm drop back down into my lap. "You get used to people hating you after a while."

We lapse into silence again. I'm getting used to these silences between us; they're comfortable, only brought on when we take a moment to think out the next move. Finally, he says mournfully, "You have no idea how sorry I am, Ally."

"For what?" I ask.

"For everything I've ever done to you." He says. "I'm so unbelievably sorry. For all the insults, all the pranks, all the rumors. Everything." He pauses for a second before adding, "For Halloween." Immediately, my mind turns to the kiss. My cheeks warm, but as he continues to speak, I know he isn't sorry about kissing me. "I should have told you what Dallas and them were planning right from the start."

I angled my nose more to the right, so it was buried in the crook of his neck. I can't help but catch a whiff of his soft scent; a fresh summer breeze, mixed with the undertone of fabric softener. My stomach does a weird little fluttering thing I don't actually mind, much to my surprise. Normally, I hate things I don't know, or don't understand, but this… it's like a little forewarning that my very own adventure is afoot.

"And then I gave a lame attempt at trying to protect you, but _that_ failed miserably." He grumbles.

"Nonsense." I say. "God knows what they would have pried out of me if you hadn't kicked them out."

"Yeah, but I should have been able to stop them." He shakes his head, as if scolding himself. "But I messed it up by kissing you—and then acting like a total ass because some girl made me her bitch—"

"Wait, what?" I cut him off promptly. "What girl?"

He sucks in a sharp breath, like he's just realizing what he said. Slowly but surely, he lets it out and says, almost in resignation, "I… I used to like this girl; Anna. Hell, I'm pretty sure I loved her." Immediately, I flick through the entire student body of C.S. Lewis, but I find no Annas. "She doesn't go to our school. She goes to the catholic school down the street, St. Columba's. Anyways… it's kind of a long story."

"I've got time." I shrug. "It's not like I'm clambering to go home."

He laughs lowly. "That's true." He leans his head back on the rock. "Well, it was the summer between grades eight and nine. I met her, and we started dating the first week of July. We were totally happy—at least, I was. And I thought she was. But apparently, I was wrong. We'd go on dates, I'd give her flowers and chocolate boxes and even a charm bracelet. I was totally head over heels. And then I caught her making out with my best friend—"

"Dez stole your girlfriend?" I cut him off, shocked.

"No, I didn't meet Dez until the start of grade nine, when the Garriwicks adopted him. Back then, Dallas was my best friend." He assures me. I relax a bit, oddly comforted by the fact that we both have something against Dallas. "When I found them, I totally flipped. Told her to choose; me or Dallas."

"And she chose Dallas." I guess. He taps his nose with one finger, as if to say, _on the nosey_.

"So I dropped her and Dallas. I went into a sort of depression for the rest of the summer. At the beginning of it, I couldn't even eat. My mom started getting really worried about me—all I did every day was stay up in my room and play old love ballads." I feel him tense beside me, his fingers wringing in loose threads on the towel. "She broke my heart. Right then and there, I vowed I'd never let myself fall again. I'd never let anyone else in. It wouldn't be worth it."

A metaphoric brick wall of realization hits me suddenly. "That's why you said you couldn't let me in, or the past six years wouldn't be able to compare to how much you would hurt me."

He looks away from my general direction. "Heartbreak is… inhumane. You have no idea—and you better hope you never find out."

"You were afraid you'd break my heart?" I ask in a whisper. No one's ever cared about me like that before. Not my parents, nor my cousins. I don't even think Ethan is worried about me like that.

Austin doesn't answer this.

But I've learned, with Austin Moon, silence can speak wonders.

Instead, he lifts me over onto his lap and threads his fingers around locks of my hair. He buries his face in the back of my neck and says into my hair, "I'll make you a deal: I won't break your heart if you don't break mine."

It seems like an odd deal to makes with someone who is just your… whatever I am to him. But I oblige by saying "Deal."

We lapse into silence yet again, though the noise in my head is anything but silence. I try to think back to the start of grade nine, to what I'd seen of Austin then. He had seemed more ruthless for about three months after school started. And he no longer had his brown haired lackey—Dallas. Instead, there was a new redheaded lackey that always seemed to hang back and never say anything. And then, of course, Jordan on the other side, only snickering and flicking my hair to annoy me.

"Thank you." I say suddenly, surprising the both of us. He looks down at me questioningly. "For today." I elaborate. "For this; getting my mind off things."

"It's the least I can do to help one of my many lady friends." He says in a light tone that is the Austin Moon equivalent of saying "You're welcome".

"I am one in a series, am I?" I say, matching his light, joking tone.

"What can I say?" he lifts an arm and flexes his muscles. "The ladies just can't get enough of the gun show."

I squeeze them gently, unsurprised to find that they are very toned. But I figure I could have some fun with this. So I shrug and say, "Eh, I've felt better."

"That may be, but I believe my abs are the best in all the land." He boasts proudly, twisting me around to face him and lifting up his faded blue shirt a bit so I can see his six-pack. I run a light finger along the visible line between the abs. He jerks back, laughing and twisting.

"The great Austin Moon has a ticklish tummy?" I gawk jokingly.

"Don't sound so surprised." He says, smiling wryly. "Even Heracles had a weak point."

"Yes, but see, there's a distinct line between you and Heracles: Heracles is awesome and you pale in comparison." I shoot back without missing a beat.

"You are so going to regret saying that, Dawson." He says ruefully, smiling like the Joker. Before I can say something back, he scoops me up, stands, and is running into the cold ocean until he is soaking from the mid-thigh down. I squeal as the water splashes up on my face and mats my hair to the sides of my face.

"Say uncle?" he growls menacingly in my ear.

"Not in a million years." I say stubbornly.

"Then prepare to feel the wrath of Poseidon." He laughs evilly. Then he throws me up into the air, laughing manically. I land in the cold water a few feet away, scrunched into a tiny ball. The water immediately folds over me as I sink down to the bottom. I kick up from the ocean floor a second later and stand, the water lapping up to my rib cage. I plant my hands firmly on my hips.

"You are so dead." I say. But I doubt he can hear me, he is laughing so hard. I play this to my advantage, as so many great war planners have done before me. I tackle him around the waist, knocking him back into the water, taking him by surprise. We both land in the surf, grinning like idiots as we come up.

"You'll have to do better than that." He says. He scoops up a mouthful of the ocean water and squirts it in my face. I squeal happily and force his head down below the surface. I can only hold him down for a moment before he comes up again, twists his hips, and flips me over so I am under him.

"It would seem the tables have turned." He croons tauntingly. He plants his hands firmly on my shoulders and pushes me down a bit, so the water just seeps over my face. I scrunch my eyes closed tight as he pushes me down more.

I can't hear anything as the waves crash around me. It's sort of an unnerving white noise I'm not used to. I feel weightless; the only thing weighing me down is Austin on top of me. I'm about to push up and break the ocean's surface, when something else weighs me down. A certain pressure and warmth on my lips I've felt only once before on Halloween.

He kisses me for only a second, and yet, it is as full as if it lasts an hour. The emptiness of earlier is gone—like, a thousand miles off the cost of Japan gone.

He pulls away first, letting go of my shoulders. I sit up, pushing my sopping wet hair out of my eyes and blushing uncontrollably.

'_Say something, idiot!_' my favourite little mental voice yells at me. '_You're just staring at him like a vegetable! Say something!_'

So I do. Unfortunately, it's not nearly as educated as I'd hoped. "Umm… gah…"

'_Nice going, genius._'

Ω

We stay at the beach until the sun sets and the stars start to peak out. Then he convinces me to go home now, or my mom would kill the both of us. So I begrudgingly let him take me back to his Chevy truck and drive me home in silence. I'm falling asleep as I lean against the passenger window. To keep myself awake, I flip on the radio and tune it to Miami Mack's station.

"_Alright, Miami, now we're going to go to a hot new band burning up the charts all over the country; R5! Here's Ready set Rock!_" Miami Mack says excitedly. The song starts with a shock of guitars that snaps me out of my daze in an instant.

I smile wickedly as I crank up the volume.

"_R5,  
Fog lights out of sight  
High tops lace it up converse Chucks tight…_" the masculine voice of Riker Lynch sings. I bob my head along to the fast beat. I've been following this band for about a year now, and apparently, so has Austin. The music builds, setting up for the chorus.

"_Ready, ready or not!  
Ready, ready or not!  
Ready, ready or not!_"

We share a smile as the song gears up for my favourite part.

"_**Ready set rock!**_" **[3] **we both sing loudly, grinning at each other. We continue to sing the lyrics off by heart, earning several honks and glares from the cars we pass. Of course, we just smiled innocently back and continued on singing every song that follows.

I'm reluctant to get out of his truck when he pulls up in front of my house after the drive. He puts the truck in park and looks at me, his eyes looking as sobered up as I feel. I gather my wet hair over my shoulder awkwardly, wondering how to end this. Again, assuming that "_this_" is even anything.

"Thank you for today." I say, biting my lip. "I really did need a getaway."

He smiles shyly. "It was the least I could do." I nod another thanks and pull him into a slightly awkward hug—again, I am only speaking for myself. "Besides, I had fun." He says beside my ear.

I pull away and slide out of the Chevy, waving as he drives down the street. I turn to my house, suddenly sobered up all the way. Today's happiness is sucked out of me as I walk up the driveway towards the back gate.

Yes, me being the coward that I am, I can't deal with my parents tonight. So I hop the fence into the backyard and slip into the house through the side door. I tip toe down the dark hallway, stopping only when I pass by the kitchen. The light is on, and my parents sit at the table. Mom is sniveling softly, and dad is trying to console her.

"It's not your fault, Penn. It was never your fault." He says soothingly.

"Yes it is!" she sobs frantically. "I should have seen it!" and then to herself, she mutters, "I'm a terrible mother."

With a pang of guilt, I realize they're talking about me. I have to lean a hand against the wall as I listen on.

"No, you're not," dad reassures her, but she continues to sob.

I can't take this torture anymore; it feels like I've just had my heart ripped right out of my chest, like the Mayans did way back when in sacrifices. Yes, that's how I feel; like I've just been sacrificed to the corn gods. I tip toe past the kitchen and up the stairs and lock myself in the bathroom attached to my meticulously neat bedroom.

I turn on the shower, and hop in.

I love showers; always have, always will. There's just something soothing about the pressure and warmth that always manages to iron out my thoughts every time. Whenever I need to think, I take a shower. And tonight, I need to straighten out my thoughts more than ever.

After fifteen minutes of standing numbly in the shower, thinking, I am sure of only one thing in my life—besides the fact that bacon is a gift from God.

But the one thing I am sure about is that I just had the worst day of my life, followed by the best. And everything from today can be traced back to one person: Austin freaking Moon.

* * *

**A/Ns: **

**[1] and [2]: _Say You'll __Stay_ by the band we all know and love... R5!  
[3]: _Ready Set Rock _by.. yup, you guessed it, R5! I love R5...**

**So I hope this chapter clears up a lot of answers about why Austin is detached to Ally *_cough_* Musiclover150 *_cough_*. Now, I won't be able to update until the week after next. I'm going on vacation up north, so I won't have internet access for the entire trip. Well, at least I can focus on writing more books and reading _The Last Guardian_ (it took me forever to track down, but WORTH IT!).  
P.S.: On the page where I find the quotes for the beginning of every chapter, there are a lot of quotes from Jarod Kintz (The guy from above). He is hil_arious!_ I really enjoy reading his quotes. Google it if you don't believe me. It's worth it. **

**Notes!**

**-"**This is great! The writing style reminds me a lot of Suzanne Collins. You're very gifted!" **Ooh tingles! Thank you! I've never been compared to such a great author before - or called gifted! Genius, yes, but not gifted. Thank you!**  
**-**cantloginsorry:** I know, right? You are only the second person to get what he was doing - at least, kind of. Not exactly, but close! Thank you! I totally want Ethan to be real, so I would make him my bestest friend EVAR! THANK YOU! **  
**-**cantloginsorry (from chapter ten): **How could you not know what a lightsaber is? It's pure awesomeness from Star Wars. That's it! I command you to at least look it up on YouTube if not watch it! So it is said, so it shall be! Thank you! Sorry I made you cry! **  
**-**Anna-chibi: **Okay, I nearly cried when I read this. Thank you, and that's great that your surgery went good! It sucks that you're in the hospital :/ but good that you're getting better! Thanks! **  
**-**Drizzleofdarkness: **Haha! You know you're not a bad writer when... someone is defending your characters. Thanks! **  
**-**SomethinLikeThat:** When I read this, I nearly burst out laughing. (Not the best thing when you're not supposed to be awake so late). I was going for epicness in the kiss. Thank you! **  
**-**Melody: **yeah, the lunch ladies know. And she does like Ms. Lewis, but y'know, Cassidy had just freaked her out and she kinda broke. Thanks! **  
**-**Stephanie-chibi: **Thanks! You're an awesome friend! Faith in humanity _RESTORED FOREVER!_**

**Thank you so much to all the reviewers! I love you all! Please keep reading and reviewing! **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	13. Vinegar Bombs Away!

Chapter twelve: Vinegar Bombs Away!

* * *

"_I smiled back and I thought, how incredible that was, that they would find the time to smile. There was goodness in the world still, even if you couldn't always see it."_

― _Jenny Valentine, Broken Soup_

* * *

I go to bed right after I step out of the shower—I've decided to prolong the inevitable for as long as possible. Mom and dad must pick up on that, because they don't try to come upstairs and talk to me, though I know they know I'm home. If they hadn't heard me come in, then they definitely would have heard the shower running.

As I lay in bed, several worse-case scenarios play in my head of what tomorrow will be like. The outcomes vary, depending on the particular scenario, but the questions I ask are always the same. How many people will ask questions? How many of them know I was all but kicked out of Florida State? And, most hauntingly, what will Dallas be like? Torturous; that much I can figure out. I don't have to be a genius to get that, but the real question is, _how_ torturous?

I think I finally fade into a light, non-substantial sleep around two a.m., but not before I pray to the angels of horrible high school experiences that I will make it through tomorrow okay.

It may just be the sleep-induced hallucinations, but as I send up my prayer to the angels, I swear something in the back of my mind clicks. Almost like Morse code. I, of course, am fluent in Morse code. And this string of clicks translates to, _okay_.

Ω

*_beep*beep*beep*_

I slam on my alarm clock at seven fifteen a.m. and coax my exhausted body out of bed. I nearly trip on the clothes strewn messily on the floor beside my bed. I had thrown them there last night after the shower, and collapsed into bed gratefully.

I pull on a mismatched outfit of light blue jeans, random, possibly clean, possibly dirty t-shirt, and a yellow zip up hoodie. I walk as casually as I can down the stairs, combing out my hair as I do so, and stroll into the kitchen. Mom and dad already sit at the table; drinking their coffees—and judging by the wild look in mom's eyes, not her first.

I stifle a frown at this. '_They never get up this early. And they certainly never look this alert at seven a.m._' I note mentally. It doesn't take a genius to know what's coming.

Odd, it doesn't take a genius to figure out much these days.

I keep my cool as I walk into the kitchen and grab a granola bar from the cupboard. '_Just get in and get out. Just like that._' My mind chants on an annoying—yet helpful—mantra.

"Good morning, Ally." Mom says quietly, breaking the room's silence. "How'd you sleep?"

I turn and plaster the world's fakest smile on my face. "Great." I lie smoothly. "What about you two?" mom doesn't buy the lie. She just looks me over mournfully and says, "Honey, you're wearing two different socks."

I glance down at my feet. I am indeed wearing two different socks. The left one is white with giraffes all over, and the right is pure red with blue strips around the ankle and toes. "Oh, sorry, I'm probably still a little bit asleep today." I say breezily, examining the socks.

"Well, sweetie, if you want to go back to bed, we can call the school and drop you off later." dad says tentatively, like I might snap at any second. I am getting _really_ tired of people acting like I'm a child or a psychopath. Sometimes both.

I look up at them, my brows furrowed in confusion. "Why would you do that? I'll just have a cup of coffee and take a nap in Am His." I flash a forced sly smile. Mom regards me flatly.

"Or we could have a mother-daughter day." She suggests lightly. "Wouldn't that be fun? Like we used to do?"

"When I was three and didn't have important school stuff." I say coldly. I scold myself for letting this cold tone slip out so easily; I know better than to use that tone when mom was in any one of her states.

"C'mon, sweetie; you've been so busy lately." Mom pushes. '_Wow,_' the little voice quips. '_She really wants to talk about this, doesn't she?_' "I feel like I hardly know you anymore."

I let out a deep breath. "I'd love to—really—but I have this huge calculus test today, and we're getting our ISU for Am His; I really can't." I say, rambling random excuses off the top of my head. I stuff the granola bar in my jeans pocket and, before my parents can say anything else, kiss their cheeks quickly and leave, calling, "Love you!" over my shoulder as I go.

I slip on a pair of running shoes, grab my backpack, and practically vault out of the front door in a record time. I can just imagine mom and dad staring at the front door, unimpressed looks on their faces. They know exactly what I was doing; plastering a fake smile on my face, leaving early for school, all the excuses that I couldn't miss class. Admittedly, not my _best_ battle plan ever, but give me a break. It was sort of last minute.

I shut the door behind me, swing my bag over my shoulder, and prepare myself for the walk to school. The walks have never been especially hard for me, but the anticipation—the time I have to think if my every move for the day—drives me crazy.

But as I turn around, I see that the angels listened to me last night. Waiting in the cobblestone drive is a battered Chevy truck. I smile to myself and walk to the car. The passenger side door is popped open from the inside, and I climb into the cab graciously.

"I thought you could use a lift today." Austin says, grinning at me from the driver's seat.

"Thanks," is all I can think to say as I clip on my seat belt and watch the house slowly move away. "My parents were trying to keep me home from school today." I say glumly.

He pulls out of the drive and pushes the car into forward down the empty street. "Did they say anything when I dropped you off last night?" he asks.

"No," I deadpan. "I was smart enough to hop the back fence and go in through the side door." I look from the window beside me to him. He flashes me an apologetic look out of the corner of his eye.

"My mom went absolutely ballistic when I pulled up. She asked about a million questions before I told her I was over at Dez's studying for a math test." He says flippantly. "Then she calmed down a bit and took away my Xbox for the week for being late." He sounds a bit sad to say this, but shrugs it off and adds, "I finished the new Ratchet and Clank **[1]** game anyways."

"Thanks." I say again, giving his arm a little nudge.

"No problem." He nods, easing onto the main road. He places a light hand on my thigh and gives it a small squeeze of purely platonic comfort. At least, it's platonic to me. To him, well, that's still up for debate.

I rest my head back against the headrest and close my eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with tiredness. I didn't sleep very wholly last night, and right now, in Austin's car, I can't help but feel all that catch up to me. There's just something about the sweet, familiar scent of the Chevy and the calming hum of the engine that envelopes me and soothes me. I feel all those worries I have about today just… melt away. Just like that. I guess that's the kind of effect being with friends has on a person who spent so long alone and ostracized from everyone else.

"C'I ask you a question?" I blurt out suddenly. My eyes snap open as I realize I said the words that have been burning in the back of my mind all night. I look at Austin worriedly, expecting him to shoot me down.

"You just did." He answers, smiling wryly at me out of the corner of his face. I send him a flat look. "But sure." He resigns, nodding.

"Are…" I try and find the right words to ask this. I know what I want to ask, and I know the basic idea I'm getting at, but I have to stop and think about how to vocalize these wonderings. "What are we?" I finally say when I find the right words for it.

"What do you mean?" he asks, furrowing his brows at me for a second before returning to the road.

"I mean, are we, like, friends, or… Can I consider you Switzerland **[2]**, or what?" I clarify, paying extra attention to not rambling on.

He thinks about this for a while, in which we lapse into silence, watching the empty road span out ahead of us, until he answers, "Friends." He sounds so definitive as he says this, so sure of himself. "I think you can definitely count us as friends."

"Good. I was hoping." I nod and add, "Though it does seem like a waste to friendzone you so early in the game."

He lets out a whooping laugh at this. "Don't be so dismissive, Dawson." He beams over at me. "The best of men can find their way out." He winks at me fleetingly and turns back to the road once more. I laugh at this and lean forward to flick on the radio. I smile wickedly as familiar and oddly appropriate song beings.

"_When you're down and troubled and you need a helping hand  
and nothing, whoa, nothing is going right.  
Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there to brighten up even your darkest nights._" **[3]**

Ω

Austin nudges me awake as we draw nearer to the school. I blink rapidly, breathing deeply and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I hadn't even noticed I drifted off while listening to the radio. James Taylor is just so soothing.

"You may want to crouch down." Austin says.

"What?" I ask. He glances at me worriedly and says, "Dallas… is waiting for you in the parking lot." He sounds hesitant to say this. I nod and sink down in the leather upholstery, still a little groggy from my power nap.

As Austin steers into the parking lot, I can just see four people positioned at different places in the busy parking lot, holding what looks like… "Water balloons?" I ask out loud.

Austin nods grimly. "Filled with vinegar." He adds helpfully. I give him a playful flat look, and he smiles brightly.

I can see Dallas up close as we pass a section of empty parking places. His dark eyes scour the lot for me, like he's on a wild man hunt, out for my blood. He is hefting a heavy vinegar-balloon in his left hand, and holding a plastic pail in the other, which I assume to be filled with more vinegar-balloons.

"They've been out here all morning filling up the balloons." Austin says as he pulls into a spot near the edge of the lot; the closest he can get to the school's front doors. "Pathetic." He spits, shutting of the truck's engine and glaring out my window at the four, still scouring all walking paths for signs of my arrival. They wouldn't expect me to show up with Austin.

I grab my backpack from my feet and pop the Chevy's door open. I slide out of the car with ease, swinging my bag over my shoulder. Immediately, I change, like I do every day as soon as I touch the concrete of the school's grounds. My eyes fall to the ground unconfidently, and my lips curve into a definitive scowl that can't be recreated by any actor.

Austin notices this shift in my mood, and gives my arm a little nudge as I walk past him briskly towards the school. I smile at him reassuringly, sending him a subconscious message that I'll be alright, and continue on my way.

I push open the doors like any other day, but of course, today is a whole new whirlwind of sucking, isn't it? It just wouldn't be fun any other way, would it? No, because the cosmos are asses like that.

Girls gawk and glare at me, muttering things among themselves about desperation and seduction. It takes me a minute to remember, they know I kissed Austin on Halloween. Or—he kissed me. I don't know; it's complicated.

As I walk towards my locker, my mood plummets even further. Thrice I am stopped to be asked how the sex with Austin was, or what I am going to name our child. I try not to flip out at this, but it's hard. Commitment scares me, unless it's to music or a bowl of ramen noodles. And commitment with Austin? Like _that_ kind of commitment with Austin—the thought of it makes my stomach twist into knots and my head feel light.

By the time I make it to my locker, I have deduced that people have gone back to thinking I am a slut, only this time, Austin has been pulled into the mix. The entire school thinks I have been secretly trying to seduce him into my bed for the past six years, and he finally decided to humour me on Halloween, only I, being the crazy old bat that I am, took it as a sight that he likes me back, and am currently obsessed with him.

I am surrounded by idiots.

I swirl the dial on my lock and pull open the locker. While I am preoccupied with filling my bag with today's useless lesson aides—a.k.a., my textbooks—I don't hear the feet shuffle up behind me. I am only snapped into that reality with a slight tap on my shoulder. I turn slowly, fearfully, to see Cassidy smiling brightly behind me.

"Good morning, Future Mrs. Moon," she chirps brightly. I narrow my eyes at her and go back to shoving books in my bag.

"What do you want; for me to name my child after you?" I ask acidly. "'Cause no offence, but Cassidy's not really my favourite name."

"Well, isn't _someone_ snippy today," she says lightly, sending me a pointed look, which I catch out of the corner of my eye.

"Excuse me for not being a bright ball of sunshine right now," I reply, my tone cold and annoyed—which I am. "But school has never been one of my favourite places, for obvious reasons."

"Alright, cut the crap, Ally, what is your problem?" Cassidy snaps abruptly in a quick, harsh tone one would not expect to come out of Cassidy Marx' mouth. I turn and stare at her, wide eyed, not just because of her tone, but because of what she just asked.

"What's _my_ problem?" I repeat, feeling my temper spike a notch. "Oh, I don't know, maybe it's the kids just deciding that I am desperate, in love with, and seducing a guy that is just a friend. Or maybe it's the flitting rumours that I am pregnant with the aforementioned friend's baby. Or maybe it's the fact that Dallas and his Band of Asses were waiting for me in the parking lot this morning, ready to pelt me with vinegar bombs." I slam the locker door shut behind me. "Take your pick."

I take long strides away from a gaping Cassidy, praying to god she won't follow.

'_There's someone up there,_' I think to myself exhaustedly as I hear Cassidy's light footsteps following me down the hallway. '_Someone who has it out for me._'

"So you're saying you and Austin aren't together?" Cassidy questions me as she tried to match my impressive speed.

I turn to her exasperatedly. "_Yes._" I say in condescension. I know, I know, as my French teacher used to say, raise people _up_, don't put them down **[4]**. Spare me the boredom; I've heard it all before.

I turn away from her shocked face and continue on the Am His.

"Oh, so then you wouldn't mind if I said I was going to ask Austin out to see the new Spiderman movie with me on Friday night." She quips lightly. I can just _sense_ the smile in her voice. That stupid, plotting, conniving smile of an evil mastermind.

I turn to her sharply. For a second, my temper burns white hot, and adrenaline pumps wildly in my veins. But then I force a smile and say, "Why would I mind?"

She gives me a dauntingly flat look. "Ally, look, you may be good at pretending things don't bother you—great, even—but I'm like… the modern day Aphrodite **[5] **when it comes to crushes. And you got it bad, sister."

'_Is she serious?_' I ask mentally. '_Is she at this _again_? Why does she keep thinking I like Austin?_'

"Well that's fabulous for you, but there are no crushes present, so your services are not needed," I say as politely as I can, though it comes out rather spitefully. "_Sister_." I smile sweetly and continue on down the hallway.

"Just you wait!" Cassidy calls down the hall after me. "You'll come around!"

I snort inwardly, shaking my head, and turn the corner into the next corridor. Some people can be so misguided…

Ω

As I walk into Am His, I see I am a little late today. Not late to class, but late to being the first one to class. A few of the seats are already occupied. I scan the room quickly, hoping to find my seat empty. My stomach plummets when I see a girl sitting in the back right corner of the room beside the window, doodling into her binder.

The girl looks up to see me watching her crossly, and smiles smugly as my scowl deepens. Ridley. I drop my bag beside an empty desk at the very front of the room and sit down. I feel so exposed here in the front; there is nothing blocking my back. Yes, I know, I sound so paranoid, don't I? But I've become used to having to watch my back 24/7.

I pull out my songbook and begin doodling randomosity on a fresh page.

_So, so far, today is a total bust (I know, surprise, surprise, right?). Dallas and co. was waiting for me in the parking lot with vinegar bombs. Thank god Austin picked me up this morning. Yes, Austin is back in my life now, hurrah! I find it ironic, though, that after everything that happened on Halloween, __**I'm**__the one who caved and brought the infamous A&A back together. I just hope we don't fight again. I hate fighting—with anyone—and fighting with Austin is just horrible. I do miss Kate and Teresa… _

_To top today off, Ridley took my seat in Am His, and Cassidy implies __**yet again**__ that there is something more going on between me and Austin. It's so infuriating! I do __**not**__ like Austin like that! Oh; here he is now! Let the Day of Horror continue…_

_Wish me luck, diary! _

"Whatcha writing?" Austin says, sliding into the desk next to me. He tries to peer into the book from across the small aisle, but I slam the leather-bound book shut before he can catch any of the words. I slip the book into my bag and shrug.

"Just whatever." I say nonchalantly. "How's your morning processing so far?"

He looks back to the front of the room, his jaw clenched slightly. "It could be better." He says finally, tersely.

"What'd they say?" I ask, though already knowing the answer.

"It's a mix of things." He admits, looking over to me. "The guys keep asking me how you are in bed, and the girls keep asking me why I'm going out with a dork like you."

"Welcome to my life." I say, smiling wryly. Suddenly, I snap my fingers together excitedly. It's like a light bulb has just flicked on in both my neocortex and my thalamus **[6]**. I pull out a piece of paper from my binder and jot down the lyrics.

_-To be hurt  
-To feel lost  
-To be left out in the dark  
-To be kicked when you're down  
-To feel like you've been pushed around  
-To be on the edge of breaking down  
-And no one's there to save you  
-No, you don't know what it's like  
-Welcome to my life _**[7]**

Ω

When lunch time rolls around, I am suddenly wishing I had stayed at home long enough to grab a sandwich for the lunch period. But there's no use risking going home now. I just walk-run to the back door, gasping for a breath of fresh air at the park.

As I walk out the back door, I scan the parking lot suspiciously for anything out of the norm. Of course, my definition of "_the norm_" is a lot more unconventional than most, so… I guess I can't count it as "_the norm_", can I? But then again, how can you define "_the norm_"? My norm is different from Austin's norm is different from Ethan's norm is different from Dez's norm is different from—

"Good afternoon, Ms. Moon." A smug voice drawls behind me. I shiver and turn around to see Dallas and co. standing behind me not one foot away like a pack of wolves, Dallas at the point and Jordan, Ridley, and Trevor flanking him. Dallas smiles more widely. I grimace, smelling garlic on his breath. "Notice how the elusive C.S. Lewis Loser answers to the name of her chosen mate." He comments, glancing to the sniggering assholes behind him. He sounds like one of those T.V. explorer guys, like the Crocodile Hunter.

My cheeks flush quickly. "How may I help you today?" I say, barely controlling the ball of rage building in the pit of my stomach.

"We didn't see you this morning." Trevor comments coldly.

"I had important things to do." I reply.

"Yes, I'm sure Blondie _is_ rather important, isn't he?" Dallas remarks, looking around, bored. I narrow my eyes at this, scowling.

"Why don't you just go play with you _My Little Ponies_ and leave me alone?" I spit.

"Now where's the fun in that?" Jordan pips up playfully. '_The more he talks, the less I like him._' I decide.

"So what do you think, guys," Dallas looks back at the three people flanking him evilly. "Should we give Ally her present now?"

"I think it's about the right time." Ridley nods, bringing her hand out from behind her back. In the hand is a coloured balloon, which I recognize to be one of the vinegar-filled balloons from the parking lot. She hands the vinegar-filled balloon to Dallas, who holds it high above my head. I cringe away, knowing what is coming next.

"Blondie isn't here to help you now, is he?" Dallas growls. He lets the balloon slip from his hands—which I would not be surprised to be the glamoured claw of a demon—and explode on top of my head. I screech loudly as vinegar showers all over me, running down my back and soaking my sweater. The vinegar is freezing—it probably spent all night in the fridge, just for me.

"You son of a bitch." I breathe deathly. I look at them laughing out of the mop that is my wet hair.

"That may be, but at least I don't look like a drowned rat." Dallas says simply. The four turn and sashay away from me, laughing their heads off, again looking like a pack of rabid wolves. As they pass, students gape and gawk at me, still rigid and trying to shake out my hair. I growl at each and every one of them as I tear away from the parking lot, trying not to vomit over my own stinging scent.

Ω

Ten minutes later, I have calmed down considerably. I have been lying on top of the monkey bars at the park, resting my eyes. The sun has dried my hair and clothes a bit, but it's going to take a lot longer for me to become completely dry.

"Where did my life go wrong?" I wonder aloud. I haven't even bothered to change out of my vinegar-soaked clothing. I just shed my sweater and spread it out on the grass beside the monkey bars to dry. The sweater is the wettest thing, save my hair, but at least I can do something about the sweater. "I swear it wasn't this bad seven years ago."

"If I recall, it wasn't." a familiar, singsong voice says mournfully around me. My eyes flutter open reluctantly, and I sit up. My wet hair flops around me as I scan the park. Not a blade of grass is out of place in the serene park, though it does seem considerably brighter when I spot Austin leaning against the fire pole close by, watching me.

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask, sliding off the metal bars.

He shrugs considerably. "A while. I didn't want to wake you." He says.

"But I wasn't asleep."

He smiles brilliantly. "Could'a fooled me."

A fresh November breeze blows by, swirling colourful leaves around in cyclones and the grass ripple, changing tints and shades. It looks like an ocean of green, rippling as if someone threw a stone in. I have a brief flashback to those happy, joyous days of my childhood, when all was right with the world, and in didn't have to worry about boys, asses, or university. I would sit at the bench in this very park, in between my parents. I would sit happily, reading a book, my short legs dangling over the bench, not long enough to touch the grass. Mom and dad would look around, perfectly content to say nothing and do nothing. They would hold hands behind the back of the bench, I think, out of my sight.

These afternoons would last hours, until I finished my book, or we would get hungry.

I think you could classify these afternoons as "the good old days".

"Why do I smell vinegar?" Austin asks cautiously, eyeing me knowingly. My eyes fall to the ground, embarrassed as I remember the cold feeling of the liquid pouring down my spine, raising goose bumps on every vertebrate.

"Dallas found me in the parking lot earlier." I say glumly. "Did you know that pigeons like to chase you if you smell like vinegar?"

His face clouds over dangerously, and he completely ignores the reference to my admittedly comical chase-scene with a rabid bird on my way to the park.

"Hey, cheer up." I say. I walk over to the fire pole and lean against the pole, nudging his leg with my foot. "It's not so bad; my favourite chips are salt and vinegar." He looks up at me, laughing silently.

"How is it that you are the one covered in vinegar, yet _I'm _the one being cheered up?" he asks, bemused.

I shrug. "I'm used to this; you're the fresh meat."

"I guess." He says. He still sounds sad. I push off the post and lean against him instead, choosing to ignore the twitch in his nose as he no doubt catches a whiff of my seductive scent; _Eau de Vinegar_.

"C'mon," I poke his cheek playfully. "Show me those godly dimples, Mr. Frowny-Pants."

He lets out a single beat laugh at this and rests his chin on the crown of my scalp. "I just hate that they treat you like this." He deadpans.

"What're you gonna do?" I say, though this is useless, because I know the thoughts flitting through his mind; what he could do to those jackasses with tight pants and short skirts.

"I think I'm starting to hate this school." he says after a bout of tense silence.

"Take a number, buddy." Is the only thing I can think of to reply to this; I mean, this is Austin Moon we're talking about. He shouldn't hate school. He's C.S. Lewis's Golden Boy, loved by everybody and adored by anybody. Not exactly the guy you would think to put on the cover of _School's Biggest Haters Monthly_.

"Hey, random, OOTB question—" he starts.

"OOTB?" I cut him off inquisitively.

"Out-of-the-blue." He explains before returning to previous train of thought. "Wanna come over to my place on Friday; you could sleep over." He adds quickly before I get the wrong idea—whatever that idea could be.

"A sleepover at the Moon residence…" I taunt him, though I know we both know my answer. I bite my lip. "Tempting, although I do have other offers. You may have to sweeten the deal."

"You can choose the food." He suggests.

"Deal." I say, nodding.

"Awesome! So just come by around… five-ish." He says brightly, giving the top of my head a peck and sliding away from underneath me. I fall back on the post, watching as he walks away from the play structure, rambling on about how he loves pineapple, but is allergic to guavas.

I can't help but smile. He is so ecstatic about this one night; it's like he's been planning to ask me this forever, but was terrified that I might say no. I think to myself, '_You know, there might just be something to this… this friendship with my past-tormentor; with this guy I used to curse every waking minute of every day. With Austin _freaking _Moon._'

* * *

**A/Ns: **

**[1]: A series of video games for Play Station. They're pretty awesome.  
[2]: For those who slept during history, Switzerland was a neutral country in World War II, so Ally is insinuating that Austin is neutral in regards to her.  
[3]: _You've Got A Friend _by James Taylor.  
[4]: My actual French teacher said this every time someone said a good burn. Yeah, she was an odd one...  
[5]: Greek Goddess of love, for those of you who have not read the _Percy Jackson_ series or taken grade nine English.  
[6]: Special thanks to bascule on scienceforums . net, who answered the question, "What part of the brain handles imagination?"  
[7]: _Welcome To My Life _by Simple Plan.  
**

**Alright, so I hope this chapter makes up for my lack of presence all last week. I would like to thank everyone, because when I got home yesterday, I had 82 e-mails waiting for me. That took a while to comb through. So thanks. You guys are awesome. And stay tuned to see what insanity shall come with their "platonic" (yeah right, I think we already know Platonism has no place in this story) sleepover! **

**Now, onto more pressing issues: books. Can anyone suggest some good books for me. Right now I'm reading the Fallen series by Thomas E. Sniegoski, and then I don't know what to read, so... anyone? Also, I have just finished reading _Nevermore_ (Maximum Ride) and _The Last Guardian_ (Artemis Fowl), and if anyone has also read these books, PM me please, and tell me what you thought of the endings. I am the only AF and MR fan I know, and henceforth would like someone to do some book-talkin' with me. Any takers? **

**Quick, OOTB question: how do you guys feel about angels? Good, bad, awesome, horrible? Thoughts? **

**Notes!**

-cantloginsorry:** Aww, shucks! I hardly think so. I'm just another teenaged semi-pro author with an overactive imagination and a computer. You're a Directioner? I am glad you know what a lightsaber is, and get used to it; I am pretty much anything but conventional! As exhibited by the tortures I think up for Ally. Thanks!  
**-Anna-chibi:** I have been getting much better at writing, thank you for noticing! I've gotten _much_ better! That sucks that you can't talk, but at least you're getting better! To quote Monty Python: "Look on the bright side of life!"  
**-Stephanie-chibi:** I swear it. Yes Ethan will be back (like dear Mr. Schwarzenegger) and yes, they do hate each other. Thanks!  
**-SomethinLikeThat:** ...What do doppelgangers have to do with GFHS? Haha! I love the word Anyhoodles! My parents are like that, too, although I have evolved myself to not make an audible sound after eleven p.m. Thanks!  
**-"You should publish your own book! You have a gift, not everyone can write like you can." **Aww thanks! I'm working on it!  
**-Sunsmiles:** "_Uncle_" is a game we play in North America. Basically, you pin someone down and hurt them until they say "Uncle", which is like saying "I give up" and then they lose the game. It really is fun! Thanks!  
**-Melody:**_ Mellifluous_ [muh-lif-loo-uhs]: sweetly or smoothly flowing; sweet-sounding. Sample Sentence: "_Austin had a mellifluous singing voice, which only added to the list of things I love about him._" Definition from dictionary . reference . com. Thanks!  
**

**Thanks to those who read and review! Love ya guys! **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	14. How To Get Him Out Of His Pants

Chapter thirteen: How To Get Him Out Of His Pants

* * *

"_For a long time he had been white smoke. He did not realize that until he left the hospital, because white smoke had no consciousness of itself. It faded into the white world of their bed sheets and walls; it was sucked away by the words of doctors who tried to talk to the invisible scattered smoke... They saw his outline but they did not realize it was hollow inside."_

― _Leslie Marmon Silko, Ceremony_

* * *

I walk up the cobblestone drive, waving to Austin as he drives down the street. He insisted on driving me home after school, and I graciously accepted the offer. I had not been looking forward to the walk home, being able to muddle over my thoughts completely alone and uninterrupted.

Fun fact: bad things happen when I'm alone.

I smile as Austin honks the Chevy's horn and disappears around the corner of the street. For the millionth time today, I find myself thinking with a warm smile, '_There might just be something to this friendship._'

I ease the door open slowly, praying mom didn't hear the car's horn. Praying that she won't be waiting for me exactly where I know she will be; at the kitchen table, drinking her umpteenth cup of coffee. I shut the door and drop my backpack beside on the hardwood flooring, beside the door.

"Ally?" mom calls from the kitchen.

'_Crap,_' I think. Taking a deep breath, I reply brightly, "Yeah, mom!"

"Could you come help me in the kitchen for a minute?" she calls. I hear a small crash and walk into the kitchen curiously, forgetting my day-old resolution to prolong the inevitable conversation about my "school buddy problems".

Mom stands on a kitchen chair next to a wall, pinning an oil-on-canvas painting against the wall. Her face is somewhat contorted in pain, her arms shaking as she is struggling to keep the painting up. "Care to help?" she struggles out.

I drag a kitchen chair beside hers and take hold of the painting while she steps down from her chair to grab a hammer and some nails. "So where'd you pick this one up?" I ask, examining the print of _The Red Maple_ by A.Y. Jackson, one of the Group of Seven **[1]**. It's a brilliantly painted piece; I mean, there's a reason the Group of Seven is the most well-known group of painters from Canada. The collection has its own designated exhibit in Kleinberg, Ontario **[2]** because they are the best.

"They were having a silent auction at the university today, so I thought I might see what they had." Mom says as she steps back onto the chair and begins to tap the nails into the wall behind the frame. She works at Miami University into the anthropology department, specializing in gorillas and how they tie into evolution **[3]**. Another reason why my dad wants me to go to Miami University; I'd get a reduced tuition price because my mom is one of the professors.

"Cool," I say. "Hey, before I forget, can I sleep over at Austin's on Friday?"

Mom looks at me oddly from behind the painting. "Are you sure you… wanna do that?" she says slowly.

"Mom, honestly?" I say laughingly. "What could happen?"

"Ally, you're not a stupid girl; you know exactly what could happen." Mom says flatly as she finishes with the first nail and moves on to the second. "You know, he's a boy, you're a girl…" she trails off. My cheeks flush deep crimson, and I react in the manner that first pops into my head: sarcasm.

"Yes, and that's a hammer," I nod to the hammer mom is holding. "And that's mug." I jerk my head back to where mom's coffee mug is on the table. "What's your point?"

"Fine, be that way." She says, waving the hammer frivolously. "Have fun at your sleepover, I guess." She taps in the last nail and we carefully hang up the painting.

"Thank you," I say, stepping down from the chair and dragging it back to the table. Mom stays on her chair, watching the picture like it's a television or a photo from Harry Potter. I am just about to walk out of the kitchen and escape up to the haven of my room, when she throws over her shoulder in a commanding tone, "Sit."

"But—" I start, grasping for some viable reason as to why I have to leave.

"No 'buts' young lady." She commands like I am a dog and she is my master. "I said sit."

Reluctantly, I plop down in one of the wooden chairs, my eyes glued to the table top. "What is it?"

She crosses her arms over her chest thoughtfully, still examining the beautiful painting. "Why do I smell vinegar?" she says finally, refusing to look at me.

"I… had salad for lunch?" I offer hopefully. She doesn't buy it. She looks at me out of the corner of her eye, annoyed.

"Why. Do I. Smell. Vinegar?" she repeats angrily, spacing out her words for emphasis and turning around on her chair to face me. Her dark chocolate eyes glide over me, scraping away every single layer of defense I have put up over the past fifteen, almost sixteen years until it is just me, a scared little girl who needs her mommy.

"Some kid hit me with a vinegar-filled balloon." I admit sadly. I play with a loose thread on my t-shirt nervously.

She scowls audibly and steps down from her chair, walking over to the table. "How long has this been going on?" she asks, sitting down across from me and studying me.

"Six years." I mutter, ashamed. "Ish." I add in a lame attempt to soften the damage.

"How could you let this happen, baby?" she asks sadly, reaching over to grab hold of my hand lightly. She rubs her thumb over my knuckles like she used to do when I was a child and still afraid of the dark. I snatch the hand away quickly and glare at her.

"I didn't _let_ this happen," I say. Is she really saying what I think she is? Is she really saying that I could have avoided this? Because, in all honesty—and feel free to call me crazy—I would have if I could have.

"Ally, I'm not saying you let this happen, but you should have stopped it." She says hurriedly, insistently. "You should have told them no."

"Have you ever considered that maybe—_just_ maybe—I did say no? That I _did_ try to get it to stop?" I snap, standing up from the table abruptly, my hands balled into fists out of anger. "Because, newsflash, the last six years haven't exactly been a walk in the park for me!" my voice is rising in decibels as I speak, but for some strange reason, I can't stop. "Being made out to be a whore isn't exactly my dream high school experience! Being showered with vinegar does not exactly coincide with what I _thought_ my life was going to be like by the time I turned sixteen! My life isn't exactly turning out the way I thought it would, and it would help if _my mother_ didn't try to blame it on me and just _let it die!_" I scream the last part, standing abruptly from the table. I can't exactly explain what is happening to me right now, but I can't help but be terrified by myself.

"Allyson, just calm dow—" she starts, standing after me.

"_Don't _you tell me to calm down, Penelope Caroline Dawson!" I snap, pulling out the big guns with her full name. Her face pales and she starts to look like she might throw up.

"Bu—"

"_NO!_" I shriek. "_I'm done with lying to you and dad that everything is all hunky-dory! Guess what? My life SUCKS! I hate it, I hate high school, and I hate YOU!_"

The second the spiteful words leave my mouth, she breaks. She sinks down in her seat and plants her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking. She is crying.

Guilt twists my stomach into a million knots, but there is nothing I can do to take them back. I whirl around in a huff, and storm out of the kitchen, slamming my balled fist against the wall as I go.

I stomp up the stairs, slamming the door to my bedroom behind me and flop down on my bed. Tears pool behind my eyes and my muscles shake. A small whimper escapes from my mouth as I pull out my phone. I call up the number of the one person who could possibly help me right now. He picks up on the third ring.

"Yellow?" Austin answers the phone nonchalantly.

"My mom hates me." I say simply, sadly. I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I wipe it away and push myself up a bit so I am sitting on my bed, leaning against my pillow.

"No she doesn't." he insists. "No one could hate you."

"Then why does she?" I say, a sob escaping my mouth. I clap a hand over it to stop any further whininess from escaping out.

"Ally," he says softly. "She doesn't hate you; she's just upset. People do things they don't mean to when they're upset."

"But _I_ was the one that was upset." I say, more tears falling from my eyes. "I ruin everything." I add in a mutter.

"No, you don't—"

"Yes, I do!" I interrupt him. "I shouldn't be allowed to talk to people ever again."

"Ally," he breathes soothingly into the phone. "Stop saying that; you're perfect. And if your mom can't see that—that you did everything you could to stop people hating you—then she doesn't see how perfect you are."

I sniffle into the phone. I sink down in my bed, wrapping myself in my blanket. I suddenly wish he was here, beside me, telling me these things in person, instead of over the phone. I wish he was the one wrapped around me, instead of my blanket. I wish I could bury my face in his shirtfront and cry until my tear ducts run dry or I die of dehydration. I wish things could just go back to how they were last night, when we were at the beach and splashing around in the ocean. Normally, I'm not the beach type, but Austin made it better. He made it _bearable_ just by being him.

"Just tell me what happened." He says.

"I—I don't know if I can." I admit shyly.

"You can do it." He says, urging me along. "Just pretend I'm right next to you. You can do this."

"O—okay." I say in resignation. "I—it started like this…"

Ω

The week drags on forever. I spend the days until Friday avoiding my mom and barely speaking to my dad. The only thing that gets me through the torture at home and utter harassment at school is the car rides with Austin. He insists on driving me to and from school, hell bent on protecting me from anything Dallas and co. have planned for me before or after school. Yes, smart as they are, they haven't figured out I'm not walking to school anymore.

But during school is No Man's Land. I have to fight to survive. It's like my own personal Hunger Games. Dallas is Cato, Trevor is Marvel, Ridley is Glimmer, Jordan is the District Four Tribute, Ethan is Rue, Dez is Thresh, and Austin is… I don't know, Peeta? Ew! No! Not Peeta!

Anyhoodles, bottom line; school still sucks and now I no longer have home as a safe haven.

My life sucks.

Score.

Ω

I stand on Austin's front porch at five p.m. exactly with a backpack over my shoulder and a Hawaiian pizza in my hand, waiting for someone to answer the door. After a second, the door opens inwardly and Kate surges past a smiling Austin and attaches herself to my legs. The top of her golden head only reaches my midsection as she hugs my legs tightly.

"I missed you, Ally!" she beams. I squeeze her tightly for a second. "Don't you love Austin anymore?" she pulls away a bit and looks at me expectantly with her watery blue eyes.

"No, sweetie, of course I still love Austin," I assure her. "We were just a little mad at each other for a while. But we're okay now; I promise." I give her one last squeeze before she relinquishes her grip on my knees and runs back into the house on her tiny legs. Austin watches her amusedly as she goes, then turns back to me, grinning evilly.

"So, you love me, do you?" he asks as he takes the pizza from my hands.

"Don't let that inflate your fat head, Blondie; you'd be lucky if you were liked by someone as hot as me." I shoot back, walking past him into the Moon residence.

"If that's what you want to call it." He smirks, following me past the kitchen and up the stairs towards his bedroom. He peeks into the pizza box and squeals gleefully. "Ooh Hawaiian!"

"Yeah, I made sure there was no guavas on it before I paid." I push open his bedroom door and look around curiously; I've never been in Austin's room before. It's much neater than I imagined…

_Not_—not that I imagined myself in his room at all. Just… y'know… I… expected it to be… messier… yeah…

"Good," Austin says, shutting his door behind him. "Because you don't want to see this"—he makes a circular motion around his face—"Ruined by an allergic reaction."

"I think it would be quite an improvement." I smile wryly, setting my bag down on the floor.

"Oh, shut up." He snaps, smiling broadly.

"Make me," I bite back, matching his smile. I sit down on the edge of his bed and look around again. The walls of his room are painted light blue and decorated with posters of famous bands like The Who and ACDC. One poster sticks out to me as I scan the walls; it's the DVD cover of _Life of Brian_ with the quote "_Life's a piece of shit when you look at it_" across the top.

I can't help but laugh inwardly at that; it's from the Monty Python song, _Always Look on the Bright Side of Life_ at the end of _Life of Brian _**[4]**. Hands down the best movie ending of all time.

I move my eyes on from the Monty Python poster and soak in the rest of the neat room. A telescope resides beside the bay window, pointing to the darkened sky. The sun sets much earlier in November. Several instruments are set up in every corner of the room, from a drum set behind the door to a guitar beside his bed, to a violin beside a metal sheet music stand with sheet music overflowing on the top. A CD rack is set up in the far left corner, overflowing with records and CDs of all music genres. On his pillow is a variety of different sheet music with notes scribbled in the margins and certain musical notes crossed out and added in.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" I ask, flicking my gaze back to Austin, who leans against the five foot long poster for a _007_ movie on the back of his door.

He thinks for a minute, blowing out a breath before saying, "Wanna play video games?"

"I thought your mom took away your Xbox?"

"Yeah, but she forgot about my PS2." He smiles wickedly as he opens his closet door and pulls out an ancient Play Station 2 covered in a thin layer of dust, along with a copy of _Need for Speed: Hot Pursuit _**[5]**.

"You are so going down." I say wickedly, cracking my knuckles.

"In your dreams, Dawson." He scoffs.

"Oh, you don't think a girl can totally kick your ass at video games?" I stand and cross my arms over my chest defiantly, swivelling my head a bit like those bitchy girls do in the movies.

"Not if that girl is named Allyson Elizabeth Dawson." He begins to hook up the PS2 to the small flat screen T.V. that sits on his low wardrobe beside the door.

"Austin Monica Moon, you are going to eat your words." I decide. "And then after I take your pride and dignity in beating you, I will take your…" now, I have absolutely no idea where I am going with this, but now it's started, I can't just leave it. "Pants." I finally decide, pointing to his dark jeans.

"My pants?" he raises a blonde eyebrow questioningly.

"Yes, Moon, your pants." I nod. "If I win, you have to go pantsless for the entire sleepover."

He thinks about this for a second, his hands frozen halfway to the PS2, filled with colourful wires. Finally, he nods considerably and says, "Alright, but if I win—I mean, _when_ I win"—I roll my eyes at his cocky grin—"You are going shirtless for the sleepover."

My cheeks flush deeply, and I consider saying no. There is no way in hell I'd ever let him—or anyone, not just him—see me without a shirt on. I guess he picks up on this, because his cocky face grows smug as well as cocky. "You've got yourself a deal, Moon." I stick out my hand for him to shake, which he does.

"I look forward to taking your shirt." He grins.

"And I look forward to getting you out of your pants." I say before I can think over the words. I mentally facepalm myself as his grin grows. '_Don't feed the monster, Ally._'

Ω

"_Your ass is mine, Moon!_" I yell angrily at the screen. I am currently attacking the buttons on my PS2 controller, driving my cherry red Ferrari down the pixelated streets of downtown Malibu.

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you, Ally?" Austin says as his silver bullet Corvette speeds past me on the freeway. We are on the final lap of the race, driving neck and neck towards the finish line, breaking every driving law in existence.

I click a strategic string of buttons on my controller and, as we turn the final corner and the black and white checked finish flag comes into view, I surge past him and cross the line a fraction of a second before him.

"You were saying?" I drop my controller and look at him smugly. I hold out my hand. "Your pants, if you please."

Austin scowls as he sets down his controller and stands. He unbuttons his fly, slips off the jeans, and drops them in my waiting hand, leaving him in only his shirt and… truck boxers. I raise an eyebrow at him as he sits back down begrudgingly, blushing deeply. "Not one word about this to anyone." He grumbles.

"No, but how about a picture?" I pull my phone out of my pocket and wave it in the air, taunting him. He regards me evilly. "Fine, be that way, Grumpus **[6]**." I slide the fliphone back into my pocket and pick up the dropped controller in front of me. "Care for another round?"

He picks up the controller and clicks _play again_. "Fine. But I get your shirt when I win _and_ you have to flash me your undies."

I don't even think before countering with, "Deal, and when _I_ win, I get your shirt."

As the screen beings to count down from three, I can't help but think, '_Well, this night has taken an interesting turn._'

Ω

We finally decide to end the game of Strip Hot Pursuit when I have Austin's shirt, pants, and rights to a comb, and he has my sweater, shirt (don't worry, I'm wearing an undershirt), and the fresh sight of my white undies in his mind. And seeing as our only other possessions left up for grabs are my pants and undershirt, our skivvies and our toothbrushes, Austin decides it's time to start the movie. I honestly couldn't agree more. So I let him pop in the movie and we start on the Hawaiian pizza.

"_Zaliens 3_?" I complain as the opening scene starts. I've watched this one about five times over at Ethan's; Dez is in love with the entire series (accept, curiously, number five) and number three, _Brainy To Shrimp Beyond_ is his favourite. "Really?"

"What's the matter, Ally, you _scared_?" he grins at me and wiggles his eyebrows. We are seated on the floor, leaning back against the foot of his bed side by side.

"No," I say. "Horror movies are so boring! So tacky! Blegh!" I make a disgusted face as the lieutenant of the Zalien army rips the head off a screaming girl and proceeds to eat her obviously unused brains.

"It's cool, Ally, no need to get all up in arms; I know how girls get when their pride is on line." he says, draping a bare arm around my shoulder. "I'll protect you."

"Whatever." I shake my head in resignation and turn to the screen, bored already. As the movie progresses, I watch heedlessly as countless humans are devoured by the zombie aliens. The only part that remotely catches my eye is when the zaliens pose as teachers and devour the entire football team.

'_Dez is right,_' I think to myself. '_This is brilliantly directed._'

Of course, it's not like I'd ever doubt what Dez says about filming; he's going to be the best director in the business someday. And I'll be able to say, "I knew him when…"

As well as the movie progresses, I find that I am the only one in the room who can stand the sight of a scary movie. By the climax of the movie, when the enhanced gerbils rise up against the zaliens **[7]**, Austin has his head buried in my shoulder and is watching the movie through my hair. I munch on the last piece of the Hawaiian pizza, bored still, as the gerbils devour the zaliens alive and take back the earth to repopulate it as the enhanced gerbil home world.

"How are you not scared?" Austin whimpers.

"I told you; horror movies are just tacky. They bore me more than anything." I say through a mouthful of pineapple. "I mean, look at that; those brains are _obviously_ oatmeal!"

He raises his head from my shoulder slightly and looks closely at the "_brains_" spewed all over the tiny screen. "Oh yeah, I never noticed that before."

"And that guy's artery," I point to one of the last remaining humans on the dystopian Earth. "It's just a Red Vein; nothing to be scared of."

He lets out a nervous laugh at this. "And… that zalien's alien goop, that's just melted silly putty, right?" he looks up at me uncertainly, hoping to be right. I nod and say in a soft voice, "See? Nothing to be afraid of."

Unfortunately, this is the exact moment a zalien decides to pop up on scream and let out a menacing growl. Austin screams shrilly and girly, burying his head back in my shoulder. I pat his shoulder awkwardly and silently give up; this boy will never be a man. Not a true one in any case.

We spend the rest of the movie like this; Austin cowering against me, half naked and screaming like a little girl. Again, not that I notice he is half naked, but, y'know, you don't exactly _not_ notice a boy in his truck boxers clinging onto you for dear life.

Finally, the last of the zaliens are eaten alive by the gerbils and they take over the dystopian world to turn it into an enhanced gerbil paradise, and _Zaliens 3_ is finished. I click off the T.V. and the room is instantly plunged into darkness. I look down to Austin, who is whimpering on my shoulder. Glancing at the alarm clock beside the T.V., I see it is 12:23 a.m.

"You think it's bed time?" I say, prying Austin's arms from around my neck. He clears his throat and looks at me, putting up a fake brave front.

"Y—yeah." He says a little shakily. He sounds uncertain as to whether he actually wants to go to sleep tonight.

"Unless, of course, you're too scared that the zaliens will get you." I smirk, which I doubt he can barely see through the darkness.

He snorts, standing up and smoothing a crease in his boxer leg. "Please, Austin Moon is not scared of anything."

"Except for zaliens." I add as I stand after him and walk over to where a blanket is set up beside Austin's bed for me to sleep. Austin pokes his tongue out at me in annoyance. Suddenly, his face falls into panic as he watches me sink down to the blanket, overwhelmed with tiredness. I look at him, skeptically raising an eyebrow at him. He flicks his begging eyes from me to the neatly made bed. I snort. "You want me to sleep in the bed with you, don't you?"

"Please?" he pleads hopefully. I sigh and slide into his bed, curling up in his duvet.

"You need to grow a pair." I grumble. He slides into the queen sized bed beside me and stretches out his limbs, purposely knocking into me.

"You know, I'm surprised I got you into bed _this_ easily." He smirks.

I turn on my side to face him and smile sweetly. "What can I say? I have a weakness for them blondes." He laughs and pulls the duvet cover up to his chin, snuggling down in the soft blanket.

"Lucky for you, I've always liked brunettes better." He mumbles before turning over on his back and lulling into a gentle sleep. I listen to his breathing slow until I know for certain he is asleep. I turn over on my back and stare up at the ceiling.

His ceiling is pretty generic. '_Of course it is, idiot,_' my favourite little inner-criticizer chides me. '_It's a ceiling._'

'_Great, _you're _back._' I think unenthusiastically.

'_Haven't you clued in yet, Ally?_' the voice says. '_I'm always here. I'm not going anywhere. I just come when you have something to get off your chest._'

'_Well, I have nothing to get off my chance, so…_' I say irritably.

'_Oh yeah?_' the voice scoffs. '_Then whose voice do I have?_'

'_No one's._' I bark.

'_You know it's his, Ally. Just admit it; he means _why_ more to you then you realize._'

'_Fine; he's my best friend, happy?_' I wait for the voice to come up with some other reason as to why my inner-contradictor is in Austin's voice until I realize, I'm just talking to myself. I groan and turn over on my side.

Austin is laying sprawled out on his back now, sleeping blissfully unaware and undisturbed. "No, mommy," he murmurs softly in a baby voice. "I want the dolphin. No one likes Larry the Laughing Lizard."

I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing out loud at this. C.S. Lewis's own baddest of the bad boys is talking to his mommy in his sleep about plush animals. A small squeak manages to escape, though, but not nearly enough to wake him up. I am about to turn back over on my back when his hand flies out and catches me by the front of my shirt and drags me closer to him. He only relinquishes his grip on my shirt when I am pressed up against him. His strong arms come around me, trapping me against him in a bone crunching hug. He nuzzles his nose into my neck, sniffing my hair.

"You smell different, Dougie." He murmurs into my ear. '_He thinks I'm his stuffed dolphin._' I realize with an inward laugh.

"I'm using a new conditioner." I say.

"What kind?" He asks. '_I should really be filming this._'

"_Herbal Essences_." I tell him. He takes another sniff of my hair and says, "I love you, Dougie." He plants a sloppy wet kiss on my cheek and goes back to nuzzling me affectionately.

Now this is one of those instances where the saying "don't ask" comes into play.

"You are such a girl, Austin Moon." I mutter amusedly.

"Yes, Dougie." He sighs. "You're always right."

"Now can you let me go?"

"No." he sounds like the maid from _Family Guy_ when he says this. You know, Consuela the maid, who always asks for lemon pledge, but never brings any from home? He sounds scarily like her.

Yes I watch _Family Guy_. Before you judge me, Ethan forced me to watch the entirety of season one with him. It was surprisingly funny.

"Fine." I sigh, going limp in his pressing grip. "Good night, Austin."

"Good night, Dougie." He breathes blissfully. "I love you." He says again before going silent. I feel myself being pulled into sleep slowly as his steady breathing lulls me. Dreamland… the place that has been so far from me for the past week, with so much on my mind, beckons to me so seductively.

I fall asleep right there, with Austin's warm body wrapped around me, whether I like it or not. For a second, I have to marvel at how so much can be said with so little. How much can get you can get across in just two words; how much you can show you are thankful for in just two little one-syllable words. Two syllables total to express so much.

"_Thank you…_" I whisper as I fall asleep in the clutches of a guy who can pretty much save me from anything. In the clutches of Austin freaking Moon.

* * *

**A/Ns: **

**[1]: True story and real painting. A.Y. Jackson is truly a gifted painter, like all of the Group Of Seven are.  
[2]: Also a true story; I learned this is art class last year. Going there is on my bucket list.  
[3]: Hooray for making stuff up on the spot! I have no idea if this makes sense. If it doesn't, feel free to tell me.  
[4]: Who saw the Olympic Closing Ceremonies? Eric Idle (the old guy who was dancing with the Bollywood dancers, but looked totally lost) performed this song, which, as mentioned before, was the ending to the Monty Python movie, _Life of Brian_. The quote is from that song.  
[5]: An actual video game for the PS2. It was awesome! No one could catch me when I played it because a) I went all over the road crazily, and b) I went at speeds often over 400 miles per hour. No joke!  
[6]: The Grumpus is from somewhere, but I won't tell you where. You'll have to guess. The people who can guess where it is from correctly get... I don't know, a shout out, maybe. I'll think of something.  
[7]: How I would end _Zaliens 3_. I'd be an awesome screenwriter. **

**Alright, so, sad disclosure: I'm going away again. Sorry, but I'll be gone for the rest of the summer where there is no WiFi, so... you'll have to wait to see how this... interesting sleepover plays out. And please, _God_, do not judge me for this chapter. I honestly did not plan for this to happen. Well, the very ending, I did, but not the video game part, I swear! This is as close to M as I will ever get, I swear on... my laptop. That's pretty big. **

**Thank you to everyone who suggested books. The first one I will try was submitted by 12itsmylife21, called _Delirium_ by Lauren Oliver. So, thanks, old author friend :) **

**Notes! **

**-SomethinLikeThat: Who else would Cassidy be? I have read every single Max Ride book before, and I know exactly how amazing James Patterson is! Thank you!  
-ChubbyRiceCakes: I don't know, honestly. I was walking down the street one day, thinking about... things mentioned a lot in this story, and that first line just waltzed right into my head. You know, "_I keep my eyes glued to the linoleum floor beneath me as I walk._" And then the rest just came naturally. Thank you.  
-Raura like crazy: Yes, we certainly do know there's more to it than this :) Thank you! I'm checking out _The Immortal Rules_ right after _Delirium_.  
-natalie tuvera: Haha! Thank you! I don't think I've ever gotten such an awesome compliment before!  
-Sunsmiles: Askshdkvsjd Thank you! I think I like being an artist with words... It feels so fuzzy on the inside! I guess it is. I don't know, I've never been hit with a vinegar bomb before.  
-Melody: Haha thank you! I believe in all that, too! But no, just think of this as... focus group testing... I know, right? I have that feeling every day of my life :(  
-ItsMusicLover150: Together we just might make it! I loved that, too! Thank you!  
-Stephanie-chibi: No problem, and that's awesome that she's starting to speak again! I am generally known as above average in writing. Thank you, and thank you to Anna-chibi! Stick together you guys; you got something of a good friendship going on, and it would be a shame to see it destroyed! **

**Okay, so I read this one fanfic by VeVe2491, and she put in a little notice at the end of one of her chapters for people to read GFHS. So I want to do the same: _ALLY IN WONDERLAND_ by VeVe2491 is awesome! Read it! And while you're at it, keep reading and reviewing GFHS! Fun fact: I love long reviews! **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	15. If Talks Could Kill

Chapter fourteen: If "Talks" Could Kill...

* * *

"_Silverfish: 'He disappeared a few years ago.' 'Disappeared? How?' said Cuddy. 'We think,' said Silverfish, leaning closer, 'that he found a way of making himself invisible.' 'Really?' 'Because,' said Silverfish, nodding conspiratorially, 'no-one has seen him.'_"

― _Terry Pratchett, Men at Arms_

* * *

**Austin POV**

Have you ever known someone forever, but every time you saw them coming down the streets towards you and your friends, you're always like, "Fucking [insert that fucker's name here]'s coming." Well, Ally's been that fucker to me. You know, not that I hated her, particularly, but I didn't like her, either. She was just always a fucker.

I wish I could say the same thing right now, though. Maybe it would make things easier. But probably not.

I am just lying here at, like, eight-thirty in the morning, watching her sleep like a lovesick puppy. I try to soak in every damn flawless feature of hers in the early morning sunlight pouring in through my window, bathing her in an iridescent glow. From her perfect porcelain skin that seems to glow in the sunlight, to her rich chocolate hair falling in graceful curls around her shoulders and face.

And her face… One does not simply describe Ally's face. It's like… imagine the most beautiful girl in the world, the prettiest actress, or that one perfect person in your life, and times their beauty by, like, a bazillion. That is how beautiful I see Ally right now. Perfectly impassive, heart wrenching, and utterly flawless, even when her eyes are closed. Oh, don't even get me started on her eyes. I swear I need a map to find my way out of them every time I look into them—they're _that_ enchanting.

And yes, I do know how corny that pickup line is. But it's true—I didn't think that shade of chocolate even _existed_ until I looked into Ally eyes that first time. I mean _really_ looked into them. At Halloween.

Slowly, as if against my will, my hand travels to her face and I trail a finger lightly along her bottom lip, torturing myself with that memory of the first time I had kissed her—that time I had first kissed anyone like that. Sure, I'd kissed tonnes of girls before, and seventy-five percent of them were a hundred times better at it than Ally, but… none of them had ever been like Ally before. They'd always been the kinds of girls with cake faces and plastic noses. Not the real kinds of girls. Not the kinds I could easily fall in love with.

And then there's Ally…

So I don't love her—please, I'm sixteen. But _could_ I ever fall in love with her? That's a question I'd rather not answer.

I let my fingertip trail off the side of her lip and frown as an overwhelming feeling comes over me again, forcing me to run the finger along her lip again. Ally has that effect on me. She's too addicting for her own good.

Like that night, on Halloween. I should have left her alone—every fiber of my being was screaming at me to just push her out of my mind forever. And yet, I went back, hell bent on keeping her safe. Like I owed her something.

I suppose I _do_ owe her something, in a way. She's the first one to show me what it means to be completely happy. Like in that one moment. That one time I couldn't possibly control myself. I was happy.

_**-Flashback!-**_

_"No?" she asked in that tiny, angelic voice that rang in my ears like a thousand tinkling bells, arching her eyebrows. My breath was gone for a moment as I watched her—she had always been so effortlessly beautiful, and yet, she never even noticed how she barely ever had to brush her hair in the mornings to make it fall perfectly._

_"No," I repeated adamantly, shaking my head. My voice was thick and guttural as I tried to stop myself, but as I drew her closer, I knew my attempts were hopeless. I couldn't stop myself anymore—I had to kiss her. I had to know what it felt like to be attached to her like that, or I might have gone insane._

_I pressed my lips against hers hungrily, hating myself for being so weak as to need to kiss her so badly. But suddenly, as I thought this, everything melted away. It was as if a curtain had been drawn over my entire life, blocking out everything that didn't have to do with Ally. It was just her and I, pressed together yet too far apart for my liking. _

_I wrapped my arms around her fragile neck and her hands tangled in my hair, elating me even more than her intoxicating scent. What was it? Acai berries? Or maybe lavender? Whatever it was, it was making my mind swim and crumbling my bad-boy stature. It was like she was ripping off every layer of me off of me, until it was just Austin left. The kind of Austin that would freely admit how much he had always wanted to do this—kiss one single girl forever. _

_My hands moved without my mind's permission—although, to be fair, my mind was a bit preoccupied at that moment—and slid down her frail body to her tiny waist. My fingertips brushed against a patch of her exposed skin, and shocks of lighting ran up my arm, hitting me right in the heart. I wondered if she felt that, too, or if it was just me. It was probably just me, though. _

_I felt her tense, and for a millisecond, I began to think I had gone too far, until she pulled me closer, deepening the kiss. I swear I heard her ask a silent question, maybe asking me to kiss her further, and I complied by pushing down harder on her, letting her slip down onto her back, and swing my legs onto the bed with her. _

_I couldn't stop myself at all by now—the Austin that would have ever done that is gone. Long gone. I reluctantly pulled away from her lips and began pecking at her cheeks, softly at first, but they grew to desperation. I heard her sigh beside my ear, content, and I couldn't help but soar at that—it felt amazing to think that I had made her happy in some way. I imagined her smiling, and I couldn't help myself again. I kissed her lips once more, and that's when I hit complete happiness. _

_I was kissing her lips. Her __**smiling**__ lips. I had made her smile. _

_A bit conceited for me to think that, yes, but as I peeked my eyes open, just to check that I wasn't delusional, I saw I was right. Her eyes were closed, but I could still see the little crow's feet beside them that were always present when she smiled. _

_I let my eyes close again, and smiled. I wondered how long we had been kissing—fifteen seconds? My lungs didn't hurt yet, but I was a singer. I had strong lungs. What about Ally, though? I knew she could sing—and she was damn good at it, too—but I could feel her growing weaker in my arms. _

_I didn't mind if we stopped kissing, though. That meant I could see her face fully again, and I could hug her tightly, and see her eyes again. I could hold on to her forever and ever. _

_Suddenly, I felt her go rigid against me, and my elation broke. She shoved me away from her, off her bed, and onto the floor. I landed painfully on my ass, but that didn't hurt nearly as much as my lips or my heart. My lips stung where they had been ripped from hers, and my heart… It felt like she was still holding it. _

_I looked up to her face, and my heartless chest squelched. She was looking at me with complete and utter abhorrence. She hated me. _

_**-Back to the Future!- **_

So you see my predicament? Even, like, a month ago, I had liked her—a surprising amount, actually. But now? Sometimes I hate myself for liking her so much.

I mean, I'm _Austin Moon_. I don't get all lovey-dovey. I'm a man. I don't have dreams about Ally where we run towards each other in slow motion while I'm wearing a brown suede vest.

Shut up.

It's not like I'll ever tell her, anyways. I am forever doomed to the friendzone. I mean, come on, what chance would _I_ ever have with Ally? I'm just stupid me; I don't even deserve her. I'd probably forget her birthday every year (November 24th) and mess up with her favourite flowers (snapdragons) and be completely insensitive when she's on her… time of the month (I'd probably get her to watch a corny romcom like "_the Flowers of Ide_", even though I know how much she hates them). See? I'd be a terrible boyfriend!

I wouldn't be able to tell her how beautiful she is, or I would bug her when she's playing the piano. I wouldn't be able to treat her like the princess she is.

"Ally…" the word escapes my lips in a low sigh as I watch her curled up in my arms. I don't know how we ended up like this—only that I awoke this morning about two millimeters from her plump, pinkish lips. It scared the crap out of me.

"Ally, I want you to listen to me closely, because I'm only going to say this once, and then I'm done, okay?" I murmur earnestly to her, too low to wake her up. I barely know what I am doing when I say this, but I have to see it through. I have to tell her, just once, and then I can move on with my life. Start to fall for someone else. Someone I deserve. "Ally, it kills me to be your friend. I hate it. I want to be more. I want to be so much more. I want to be your everything, Alls. Just like you are to me."

I trail a hand along her arm, just like I had done her lip, and watch her adoringly. And painfully.

Is it selfish of me to wish she could only be mine? To wish that I could whisk her away like the princes do to the damsels in distress in those fairytales? It feels selfish. To want her all to myself. To want to watch her wake up every day beside only me, and smile at only me, and kiss only me and hold only me.

I guess I'm selfish, then, because that is all I want right now. All I want is for her to be mine.

I feel her stir in my arms just as I open my mouth to stop dodging around the point—to tell her that I am in like with her—and suddenly, I can't find my voice anymore. So I clamp my mouth shut and watch her raise her head and smile drunkenly at me.

"Goomornin'." She mumbles adorably, running her words together. She lets her eyes fall closed again and rests the point of her tiny little nose in the crook of my bare neck, like she wants to fall back asleep, but I can't let her. Even though it's, like, eight-thirty in the morning and the sun isn't even up yet, I can't go back to silently pining over her sleeping self.

So, as a thankful (or, rather, unthankful, depending on how you look at it) alternative, I brush a lock of her cashmere soft hair out of the way and place my lips next to her ear, barely stopping myself from catching a whiff of her intoxicating scent—acai berries today. But it's flexible.

"Ally?" I breathe in her ear as seductively as possible. She raises her head again, and I have to suck in a breath to hold myself back.

Her face is now centimetres from mine. So _close…_ so effortlessly beautiful… and so not mine.

I give her my most smouldering look to give her some kind of indication of what I'm thinking, but I know by the slightly scared look on her angelic face, she has no idea what is running through my head at this moment.

"Yeah?" she breathes in reply.

I smile in a ghostly manner. "Nothing." I say. "Just wanted to see your face."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes. "You need to work on your flirtation skills, Moon." She says in a light tone.

"I got you into bed, didn't I?" I return her light tone and flash a brilliant smile.

"Touché." She raises an eyebrow in challenge. "Hey Austin?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you feeling me up?" she flicks her gaze towards her arm. I follow it, and see that while I was focusing so intently on her, I had subconsciously started to stroke her arm again. I freeze and my mouth runs dry again.

"Um…" I try to grasp some kind of plausible reason to be touching her so… somatically. "Crickets have ears on their front legs." I blurt out suddenly, unconsciously. It takes me a second to hear myself actually say that, but when I do, I close my eyes in frustration.

'_Are you _serious_?!_' a little subconscious voice chastises me. '_**Crickets**?! Why not just go kill her parents while you're at it? It couldn't make your chances with her much worse._'

To my surprise, she giggles. Like, not one of those annoying girly giggles, but a kind of flirtatious, low-volume laugh that she does so well. "You are an idiot." She shakes her head, glowing with laughter.

"Wow, thanks." I say flatly.

"What can I say?" She shrugs as much as she can in my arms. "Angels don't lie."

"I know." I say sensually before I can stop myself from thinking it. Her smile falters as she looks up at me uncertainly.

She opens her mouth to say something in that angelic voice of hers, but I stop her. I smile salaciously at her, trailing a fingertip along her jawline, from her earlobe to her chin. I can't help but touch her this way; in the way that kills me.

I can see a shift in her eyes. They suddenly become so focused on me, and I do the same. I can feel everything I have been pushing down since Halloween well up in me and try to push its way out. And I swear I see it in her, too. Although, to be fair, I'm a little biased. I want to see the same basic need for me as I feel for her.

I start to inch towards her, zeroing in on her perfect lips and she breathes the one single word that could possibly make me fall even more for her at this instant.

"_Austin…_"

My name. She says _my_ name. Not Dez's. Not George Clooney's (even though she has, like, a _major_ crush on him). But it's _mine_.

"Are you cuddling?" a small, happy-go-lucky voice breaks through to my brain and snaps me out of my daze, shattering any chance I could have had at happiness today.

Ally's head snaps downwards and catches me in the nose. Pain shoots through my face and my hands fly to the bridge of my nose, ready to stop any blood from falling. I roll to the side, away from Ally moaning in pain and rubbing her forehead fervently.

Unfortunately, I roll too far, and drop off the side of the bed, dragging my duvet cover with me, exposing Ally in her sleeping clothes. I suddenly wish we hadn't played Strip Hot Pursuit last night. Then I wouldn't be rolling around on the floor in my boxers and Ally wouldn't be desperately trying to cover herself up in her undershirt and short-shorts.

And, of course, Kate is watching this, laughing uncontrollably.

"My nose!" I complain loudly, trying to stop the blood from staining my floors too much.

"Yeah, 'cause _my_ face is doing any better." Ally shoots back irritably. Through my hands and all the welling blood, I can see her forehead is beet red—even redder than her blazing cheeks.

"Are you still cuddling?" Kate asks innocently.

I scowl and sit up, holding the bridge of my nose firmly. "No, Kate," I snap. "We are _not_ cuddling, now go play with your Barbies or something."

I know, she's only five, but give me a break; she just annihilated me kissing Ally again. I'm pretty pissed, even if she does have the rosiest cheeks.

"Hey, don't snap at Kate." Ally says defiantly.

"I will snap at whoever I want to snap at, woman!" I bite back. Her face sours and her eyes narrow dangerously. She opens her mouth to say something back—probably one of those world-famous slams of hers, but of course, _that_ would be too merciful.

"_What_ is all the noise?" Mom says frantically, pushing the door open all the way, so she and dad can both see the scene perfectly. To recap: Ally in my bed, in short shorts and an undershirt—that, I'll admit, does _kind_ of look like one I have, if you didn't look to close and ignored the fact that we were totally different sizes. Me on the ground, in just my boxers, blood spewing from my nose.

Mom pales dramatically when she sees us, and looks down to Kate numbly. "Sweetie, why don't you go get yourself from milk from the kitchen while we talk to Austin and Ally quickly?" she says in as sweet a voice as she can manage through her tight face. Kate nods fervently, and scampers off down the hall, cackling madly at the notion that I'm in trouble.

It's easy to tell if someone in my family is in trouble; mom will always ask everyone to leave so that she can "talk to them quickly." Even if she's five, Kate knows how this family runs.

Mom and dad walk into my room calmly, and shut my door behind them. Ally has finished rubbing her forehead, and is sitting straight-backed on the edge of my bed, chalk-white. I stand from the ground, grabbing a tissue from the box on my bedside table, and sit down beside her.

Mom is standing in front of us, tapping her foot expectantly, her arms crossed and her usually soft face deathly. Dad just stands behind her, looking very disappointed.

"Austin, I don't set a lot of rules in this house," mom starts off condescendingly. "No parties, no drugs, no drinking, and _no_ girls in your bed." She shoots Ally a pointed look, who shrinks back, ashamed. "Easy." She shrugs. "And I expect you to follow them to the _best of your ability_."

Ally looks like she wants to vomit right about now—or curl up in fetal position and fight off a panic attack. "Mrs. Moon—" she starts quietly.

"No, Ally, let me finish," mom cuts her off, holding up a hand. "I could anticipate Austin breaking a few rules—it happens." Again, she shrugs, and her tennis sweater loosens around her shoulders. "But I expected more from you, Ally. Yeah, my son can put up quite the fight—he's stubborn like his father." Dad shuffles awkwardly over mom's shoulder, and I know he doesn't like having this conversation any more than Ally and I do.

"But, come on," mom continues. "Is abstinence really _this_ foreign a concept to your generation?" Ally squirms, her eyes falling to the floor and her cheeks blazing. I have the urge to put a comforting arm around her, but I doubt that would help our case. "If you wanna sleep together, that's fine. Go nuts." By now, I'm pretty sure Ally has killed herself at least twice in her mind. And I knew the feeling. "But do _not_ do have sex under _my_ roof while _my_ family is present."

"Mom," I start pleadingly, arching my eyebrows up high, giving her my most innocent look. "Nothing happened."

"Right," mom says sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "_Nothing_ happened. Just like _nothing_ happened between your father and I at prom—"

"_Ahhh!_" I scream, covering my ears with my hands, shaking my head profusely. "_La la la la laaaa!_"

"Mrs. Moon," Ally quips shyly. "With all due respect, I didn't sleep with Austin, nor do I _want_ to sleep with Austin."

"Are you sure?" mom raises an eyebrow and sends me a biting look. I have to bite my tongue to snap back a sarcastic response.

"Yes, Mrs. Moon, I _swear_." Ally begs mom, clasping her hands together and her biggest puppy dog eyes. "Austin isn't my type." Even though I know her well enough to know that she does in fact love blondes and musicians, and guys who really do care about her, this still hurts to hear. "Besides, Florida State probably wouldn't accept me if I starred on MTV."

"MTV?" dad asks curiously.

I let my hands slide from my ears and say, "There's this show on MTV called _16 & Pregnant_."

"That's horrible." Mom said disgustedly. And with that, she turns on a heel and stalks out of my room, dad in tow, leaving Ally and I sitting there, mentally vomiting all around the room.

We're silent for a few minutes, both of us trying not to shake too much, but I can see her horror all over her face. She stares at the floor absently, clutching her knees tightly.

"…You okay?" I finally say, breaking the awkwardly horrified silence.

She takes a shaky breath and says in a bare whisper, "I used to think my mom was Lucifer."

And, just like that, I have a sudden flashback to everything that had made me fall for her originally. Everything about her, really. The general fact that she's Ally friggin' Dawson.

* * *

**Ally POV**

I used to think school was tough and horrifying and worth killing myself over. But that was before I was accused to having sex with Austin by Austin's intimidating mother.

I have been to hell and back. And it is not pretty.

I stand from the bed and fish my clothes from the floor in front of the T.V., where I threw them last night. In hindsight, we probably should have folded them up or something. That sight probably made it worse.

Austin stands after me, snatching up his jeans and a shirt from a pile near the door. We slip into our clothes in an awkward silence, neither of us meeting the other's gaze and dressing in separate corners of the room.

I know without asking, it wasn't just Teresa that has us tense. It's the fact that we had been so close to kissing just minutes ago. It's the fact that I had wanted it, and—call me crazy—I think he wanted it, too. That scares me. I mean, I did nowhere near want to sleep with him—I have standards—but the fact that I wanted to kiss him scares me. I'm Ally. I don't kiss people, I read books.

It's how the world works.

And yet… I risk a glance over my shoulder, just as Austin is stretching his hands over his head and rolling out his shoulders. He is still bare chested—he hasn't put on a shirt yet. I remember with a warm feeling how I had awoken in his strong arms, and for a second, I felt… blissfully okay. Like in that heartbeat when I had not known what was happening, nothing was wrong… with anything. Nowhere in the world were people being killed or raped or mugged or anything—just in that second. For just a heartbeat, it was world peace.

Isn't that crazy?

I turn back to my corner and slide into my pair of jeans and plain red t-shirt. I was almost reluctant to go home—back to mom's evil stares and dad's constant attempts to get me to talk to _her _again. Like I said, there was just a second this morning, when nothing was wrong with anything.

But that's all back now—and, probably, worse. I have not a doubt in my mind that right at this second; Teresa is in the kitchen, having a "quick talk" with my parents, telling them what they walked in on. Which, for the record, was nothing.

I think…

All this weight that Austin had lifted off my shoulders last night and this morning is back, pressing down on me with a crushing weight. It's like the phrase "the weight of the world on your shoulders" is being taken quite literally.

"Alls?" Austin breaks me out of my thoughts, turning from his corner to face me. I look over my shoulder, plastering an obviously fake smile on my pale face.

"Yeah?" I say nonchalantly. I know he doesn't buy me being okay. He's my best friend; he knows what gets me down.

"You okay?" he asks.

I have to think for a second. "I will be."

And, just for a second, I believe it. Just for a second, I think that—just maybe—the fairytales had the right idea. Happily ever after exists, like they do in the stories. Maybe, there will be a point in all our lives where everything comes together. When everything is all said and done, and the corny, happy music starts playing. The two main characters kiss, and then the words "_The End_" come on screen in pretty, swirly lettering, and then the credits start playing.

But I doubt it.

Stories never really "end," if you think about it. Life will just keep going on, even if no one is recording it anymore.

I remind myself of that grimly as I follow Austin down the stairs, to the kitchen. '_Life never just _ends.'

But then again, what do I know? I'm just trying to figure out the here and now, with my best friend. My best friend, who just so happens to be Austin freaking Moon.

* * *

**Updated March 16th, 2013. **


	16. Suffocating Memories

Chapter fifteen: Suffocating Memories

* * *

"Day_ or night, I can't see the wind. But at night, it feels like I can see it even less. What's less visible than invisible? " _  
_― Jarod Kintz, A Zebra is the Piano of the Animal Kingdom_

* * *

_**And now, for the latest installment of Ally's Spiral into the Nuthouse!**_

_Heh, no, but seriously *serious faceness all the way* I think I may have to be admitted soon. Austin and I have fallen back into sync as best friends since that little misunderstanding with Teresa two days ago, but I can sense things are still a bit tense. But I guess they always will be as long as he and I are mistaken for a couple. _

_Dear God; what if they give us a trendy mash-up name? What would we be, anyways? Austy? Alin? _

_No, those don't roll off the tongue quite right… Auslly? _

_Yeah, that sounds about right. _

_Okay, really? Really? I'm brainstorming trendy mash-up names? I don't even like him. Not even a little crushie-wushie. It's impossible. Well… I shouldn't say __**impossible**__ because, really, nothing is impossible. As Audrey Hepburn would say, the word itself says "I'm possible." So… yeah… _

_How 'bout that? _

_Anyhoodles, it's Monday today, about seven a.m. and I'm sitting at my desk, waiting for Austin to text me that he's here to pick me up. I told him to stay away from here this week for two very important reasons. One: Teresa did in fact tell mom what she ran into while I was sleeping over at their house on Friday. Two: Nanny Allie, Aunt Roman, and Trish are here for the week! _

_I know, right? It's been too long since I saw them! September and November really should be closer together. But alas, Julius Caesar did not think about that, now did he? No. No he didn't. _

_But yes, Trish is back! She's down stairs right now, in the kitchen, probably playing with her food and only eating a little bit so Nanny Allie won't nag. Sometimes I worry about her… okay, a lot of times. She's just so worried about what others think of her that she doesn't realise the kind of effect it has on herself. She's not anorexic—believe me, I wouldn't let her take it that far—but these diets she forces upon herself… I looked some of them up online and in my textbooks, and they are __**horrible**__ for your body! It's getting too much—I can see the dead look in her eyes as she watches me eat chocolate and cake and chocolate cake. _

_Should I tell Aunt Roman? As her mother, you would think she would notice Trish's insecurities, but Trish is surprisingly stealthy when it comes to secrets. Except for that time when I broke mom's ceramic cat and glued it back together before she came home… Man, I didn't think anyone could tell on another person quite that fast. _

_But I don't know what to do. In psych, the teacher tells us every day that environment and society have a __**HUGE**__ impact on the way we think. But I don't want her to think about society because, really, society sucks. I mean, who made others the jury to your life? How do they know what one person thinks and does and what they've been through in their life? How does anything give people the right to judge others? _

_I don't remember it really well, but Trish used to live in Miami when we were little, before her father left her. I can remember one thing about that night when we were both four—Aunt Roman sobbing on our front porch in the middle of the night, saying how Uncle Harry had left her for some twenty-four year old he met in Vegas six months earlier. Trish and I didn't really understand what everything meant then, but we do now. Uncle Harry left Trish and Aunt Roman alone, and that changed them both. _

_I don't think Aunt Roman has dated since the divorce was final, and Trish… well… I think she just needs people to love her. Not in a narcissistic way, but in the way that you don't want more people to leave you in life, and you'd do anything to make sure that never happens. _

_I just want her to see that she has nothing to worry about there; mom, dad, Aunt Roman, Nanny Allie and I would never leave her. She'll never be alone as long as I have anything to say about it. _

I shut my songbook definitively, tucking it into the open backpack beside my feet, and glance at the clock. 7:25. I crinkle my nose in annoyance; Austin is late.

I stand from my desk, brushing off the creases in my plain yellow t-shirt, and swung the backpack over my shoulder, taking a deep breath. I walk out of my bedroom, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where mom, Aunt Roman, and Nanny Allie are all bustling around busily, cooking up a storm. Trish is, as expected, sitting at the table dully, picking at a bowl of oatmeal. I sit down across from her, nudging her under the table with my foot. She looks up at me with sad eyes, and I gesture to the bowl of oatmeal, silently begging her to eat more. She takes a spoonful, and I nod, encouraging her to keep it up.

Then I look over to the stove, where Nanny Allie is standing, stirring a pot of what smells like her world famous onion soup. I love my Nanny Allie. She's this frail-looking old woman with snow-white hair pulled back in a braid, though wisps still manage to escape. Her kind, crystal blue eyes shine with pride at me for no reason at all. See, Nanny Allie is also known as someone else—Allison Rose, the world-famous country singer who has won more CMAs **[1]** than Reba McEntire or Taylor Swift. She has stories about everything—tours, concerts in Time's Square on New Year's Eve, everything. I think that's what I love about her. She is basically everything I ever want to be. Famous for singing and writing her own songs. Of course, I'm more rock or pop, and she's straight country, but those are minor details.

She taught me how to play my first instrument when I was six. The banjo. I was staying with her in Jacksonville for the summer, and while I was playing with my imaginary friend, Ms. Pennyworth, I stumbled upon her old vintage collection of guitars. I begged her to teach me how to play, and finally, after twenty minutes straight of begging, she took down the oldest instrument she had—a battered old banjo that was covered in dirt—and taught me my first chord.

Next I look to the island, where Aunt Roman sits perched on the countertop, straight backed and nose shoved in an issue of _People_ magazine. She and mom are twins, only separated by about five minutes. Fraternal twins, of course. You wouldn't think they're twins at all because of how different they look. Roman has Nanny Allie's crystal blue eyes, and her father's mousy brown hair. Mom has Grandpa's deep chocolate eyes and Nanny Allie's dark brown hair, which she passed won to me.

The mom in question in leaning against the island beside her sister, eating a bowl of oatmeal and reading over Aunt Roman's shoulder. When I walk in, she doesn't look up, unlike the others.

"Anya," Nanny Allie says when she sees me sitting at the table. "Eat; you're too thin."

That's Nanny Allie's solution to everything; food. Everything can be solved with food. Not that I'm complaining, really. She's the best cook I've ever met—or ever _want_ to meet, really.

"Oh, it's okay, Nanny," I say. "I'm going to school in just a minute."

"Hogwash," Nanny Allie spits, ladling oatmeal into a bowl for me. "They can't teach you anything if you're skin and bones."

"But I really should be goin—"I start, only to be cut off by Nanny Allie setting the bowl down on the table in front of me and shoving a spoonful into my mouth like she used to do when I was a toddler and didn't want to eat. I take the spoon reluctantly and eat the oatmeal under Nanny Allie's watchfully stern eye.

Nanny Allie always knows how to make me feel like a kid again. Forcing me to eat when I'm too stubborn to. Sending me to bed when I'm up late studying or reading or watching TV. Making me practice the piano or guitar in front of her so she can tell me what I'm doing wrong. Teaching me how to make perfect shortbread cookies.

Nanny Allie smiles approvingly as I eat away at the bowl. The oatmeal is amazing, as always. Warm and gooey as it slides down my throat, warming my stomach.

Suddenly, a knock sounds at the door. Aunt Roman looks up curiously from her magazine, slips off the counter (ignoring Nanny Allie's criticizing looks that sitting on the counter is unladylike) and disappears down the hallway. I hear the door open, and then Aunt Roman call, "Anya? There's someone here to see you."

Her voice sounds weird as she says this. Uncertain, and reluctant. I drop my spoon beside my half-empty bowl of oatmeal and walk down the hall. I can hear Trish, mom, and Nanny Allie following behind me interestingly, but I take no notice of their prying.

…Until I see Austin at the door, holding a bouquet of flowers and an envelope addressed to me.

I freeze in the front hall, staring dumbfounded at the flowers. They are beautiful, waxy-looking tulips **[2] **mixed with two or three stems of snapdragons **[3]**. The tulips are a perfect powdery pink, and the snapdragons are pink as well, but a more vibrant, shining hue.

Don't get me wrong; they are absolutely stunning. But really? I told him what would happen if he came around here this week. Police-style interrogation, getting chased away with a spoon and/or kitchen knife, the whole shebang.

Austin himself looks mortified as he sees my family congressed in the hallway, staring at him wickedly. I can see the evil grins plastered on Trish and Aunt Roman's faces, one geared to me, and one geared to Austin.

"Um…" Austin starts awkwardly, his honey eyes falling to the welcome mat beneath his Nikes. "You ready to go, Als?" he mumbles.

I blink, shutting my mouth, and slide my feet into a pair of sneakers beside the door. "Yeah, let's go." I say, pushing past a grinning Trish. As I walk past, she shoots me a questioning look, as if to say, "_You're getting with _that_?_"

Grabbing my backpack from the floor, I shake my head covertly and toss over my shoulder as I drag Austin away from my family, "Be back later!"

"It was nice to meet you!" Austin calls back to the gaping Trish, evilly grinning Aunt Roman, bored looking mom, and glaring Nanny Allie.

"Don't push your luck," I mutter to him under my breath. He looks down to me curiously for an explanation. "My family is a rabid wolf pack. They will rip you apart limb from limb and not chip even chip their nail polish."

His eyebrows shoot up. "Wow," he says. "Who would have guessed _you're_ the normal one."

I elbow him in the ribs and let go of his wrist when we reach his Chevy.

"Before I forget," he says just as I open the door to slide in. He thrusts the flowers and card into my hand. "These are for you."

"For what?" I ask, turning the envelope over in my hands.

"For Saturday." He says. Immediately, the blood rushes to my cheeks. "I'm sorry about my mom."

I nod, stepping up into the cab of the truck. He follows suit in the driver's side and starts the engine. As he eases the car out of my driveway, I pull the card out of the envelope and giggle.

The cover has a picture of a tabby kitten hanging out of a tree. His big yellow anime eyes are blown up and shining with what looks like tears. Below him, in big black letters are the words, "_I'm sorry my mom accused you of being a Lady of Questionable Morals!_"

I open up the card, and lo and behold, there's a poem.

"_Hey, she just met you, _

_And she's kinda crazy. _

_But she found us in bed innocently together, _

_So ignore my insane mom maybe?_" **[4]**

"Oh, wow." I laugh, shutting the card to look at the cover again. "I didn't think the made these."

"They make cards for _everything_." Austin says, smiling over to me. "Do you like the flowers?"

"I do." I pick the bouquet up and examine the flowers more closely. They really are beautiful. The tulips have strings of red and orange around the base of the pistil, accentuating the soft pink colour of the petals. The snapdragons are my favorite, though. Their sharp colour vibrates in my eyes, drawing me towards them. Their petals are so soft looking and waxy. It almost looks like someone painted them—they are so perfect. "Where'd you find tulips in November?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "I know a guy."

"Is that guy Dez?" I say, grinning. He looks over to me sheepishly.

"Possibly," is all he says before turning back to the road.

I take a careful sniff of one of the tulips, smiling at its sweet fragrance. Then I smell one of the snapdragons. A tug on my heart pulls me back to a memory of snapdragons. A sad memory I haven't thought about in ages…

_**Flashback! **_

_I hunched down in Nanny Allie's snapdragon bed, hiding from Trish. We were five then, in the backyard of Nanny Allie's house. She and Aunt Roman were living in Jacksonville with Nanny Allie then—it had only been about two months since Uncle Harry left. Aunt Roman was still heartbroken, and Trish was starting to understand why. Her daddy wasn't coming home from work anymore, and she was worried he never would again._

_I scanned the huge yard for Trish's tiny form, ready to bolt when she came to catch me in our game of hide and seek. _

_She had just lumbered into the yard from around the house, presumably searching Nanny Allie's vegetable garden for me, when the back door opened. Mom and Aunt Roman came out of the house, their eyes bloodshot and faces chalk white. Aunt Roman walked over to Trish, scooped her up into her arms, and cried loudly. _

_I stood from the snapdragon bed slowly, looking to mom for answers. Instead of answering anything, she just walked over to me, knelt beside me in the snapdragons, and hugged me tightly. I could feel her fat tears hitting my shoulders as she cried just as hard as her sister, but not quite as loud. _

"_Don't cry, mommy," I said in her ear, wrapping my chubby arms around her neck. "It's okay. Grandpa's going to get better, and then he's going to come back from the hospital and then we'll live happily ever after." _

_Mom let out a wretch of a sob, stroking my hair softly. "I'm sorry Ally," she whispered coarsely in my ear. "Grandpa's not coming home." _

"_Is he coming home tomorrow?" I asked. She loosened her arms from around me and looked into my eyes. I winced at her bloodshot gaze, confused by why she was crying. _

"_No honey," she sobbed. "Grandpa's not coming home ever." _

_**Back To the Future! **_

I feel a tear sting at my eye as I think about this and blink it back. I don't need to think about this; not today, not now.

I smile down at the snapdragons once more before I turn to Austin. "So, care to explain what you were doing on my front porch this morning?"

He smirked in laughter, not taking his eyes off the empty road in front of us. "I didn't think your aunt would answer the door."

"Why wouldn't she?" I raise an eyebrow.

He takes a deep breath before turning to me. "I think the better question is, why would she call you Anya?"

"Touché," I nod. "I was named after my grandmother—the one with the spoon and the evil eye." I explain. "They call her Allie, too. So when I was born, and my mom named me Allyson, after her, and they were too lazy to call me Allyson, my Aunt Roman came up with Anya—you know, like in _Anastasia _**[5]**?"

"So, they named you after a scary old lady and a Russian princess who's supposed to be dead?" he asks incredulously.

"Exactly." I nod.

"Wow." He laughs before reaching to the stereo and flicking it on to 203.7. A nice, sweetly infectious Shawn Hook song is playing.

"_The lanes are all clear _

_I've always dreamed that I'd be here, _

_But this seems too weird. _

_So close I can taste it, I've waited all my life (for this) _

_And I don't wanna waste it; I've chased this all my life (I'm so close)._" **[6]**

As the song progresses, I look down at the snapdragons, thinking back to that moment when mom told me grandpa isn't going to come home anymore. After she told me, she cried a bit more, and, somehow, we ended up lying back in the snapdragons, saying nothing at all. Trish and Aunt Roman had gone inside to see Nanny Allie, but we had stayed outside, watching the clouds pass by. She taught me then to see the different shapes in the clouds, and how those clouds were everywhere around the world.

She said that they saw everything in heaven and on earth. That they knew everything there is to know. As I think about this, I am pulled back into those memories—bittersweet this time.

_**Flashback! **_

_I lay on my back beside mom, staring up at the clouds. It was evening by then, and the sky was painted beautiful colours of purple, blue, orange, yellow, red, and just about every colour in the universe. I don't think the sky has been that beautiful since then. She was pointing out different shapes in the clouds._

"_And there's a harp, see it?" she said, pointing to a cloud on the far left. I smiled at the harp, when another one caught my eye. _

"_What's that one, mommy?" I pointed to a cloud that resembled a face in the sky, strong and stern, yet soft and caring. Mom examined the cloud for a minute before saying hoarsely, "That's grandpa watching over us." _

"_But you said grandpa would never come home anymore." I said perplexedly. _

"_I know, sweetie," mom replied. "That's grandpa as an angel." _

"_Grandpa's an angel?" I looked over to her. She looked back to me, smiling faintly. _

"_Yes, sweetie. Grandpa's an angel. He's watching over us now, making sure we stay good people." He said. _

"_How can he make sure of that, if we live in Miami?" _

_Mom wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me closer. "Because, sweetie, angels are everywhere. They see everything. They know everything. You can't hide anything from an angel." _

_My eyes widened at that. "Does he know I give daddy my broccoli?" _

_Mom let out a small, single-beat laugh and nuzzled me affectionately. "Of course he knows, Ally. Angels know everything." _

"_Does he know how much I'm going to miss him?" I asked sadly. She raised her head up a bit to watch my face fully. Her eyes were sad again, but not the crying kind of sad. The sad kind of sad. _

"_Yes, sweetie." She said finally in a strained voice. "He knows, and he misses you, too." _

_I wrapped my meaty arms around mom again, burying my face in her neck. My eyes stung with salty tears, and I hugged her tighter. She returned the hug, letting me cry into her neck. _

_For the first time that day, I grasped what had happened, and what it meant. I wasn't going to see grandpa anymore, but he would see me. He would always see me in the clouds, watching over me wherever I went. He would always be my guardian angel, even if I didn't want a guardian angel. _

_**Back to the Future! **_

This time I do have to wipe tears out of my eyes. Austin sees this, no matter how covert I am. He silently guides the car to the side of the road, kills the engine, and pulls me out of my seat onto his lap. He doesn't ask why I'm crying. He just cradles me in his arm and lets me cry it out.

Truth be told, I don't think I know why I'm crying. It can't be just for my grandpa, can it? He's been gone for ten years. I've made my peace with it. Yeah, I do still miss him, but then I remember that evening, when mom said he would never really be gone.

Maybe it's just mom. Maybe I don't miss grandpa—I miss mom. I haven't talked to her since our fight—not really. I do miss having my mommy there. She was like a direct line to grandpa, and the angels in the clouds.

She's the best mom I could have ever asked for. Even if she doesn't really get me all the time.

"It's okay," Austin whispers in my ear, stroking my hair like mom had done that day. "Everything's going to be okay."

"You don't even know why I'm crying." I say quietly, smiling into his chest. I link my arms together around his neck in a slight hug, and he pulls me closer to him.

"Do you?" he says.

I don't think I have to answer this verbally for him to know what I'm thinking. That's what I love the most about Austin, really—we don't have to speak. It's like we're telepaths. No speaking necessary for him to know I miss my mommy.

I guess, in that sense, I have a second guardian angel, too. And I think his name is Austin freaking Moon.

* * *

**A/Ns: **

**[1]: Country Music Awards. Sort of like the Grammys for country artists.  
[2]: Tulips are the flowers for a declaration of love. I thought that would be fitting for Austin to give Ally.  
[3]: Snapdragons are the flowers of desire. Again, very fitting.  
****[4]: A nice rewrite of _Call Me Maybe_ by Carly Rae Jepsen.  
****[5]: The famous Disney movie _Anastasia_ made in 1997 about, yes, the should-have-been-dead Russian princess Anastasia, or "Anya."  
****[6]: _So Close_ by Shawn Hook.**

**Sooo, what do ya think? I know, it's pretty boring, but the exciting part is coming, I swear. Trish will make it interesting. Just a little clarification - Ally and Trish are cousins in here. So yeah. **

**Now, did everybody check out The Rocker Awards like I said? Pretty sick, right? I'm excited to see who wins what! And if you didn't take my advice and check them out, shun! Shun the nonbeliever! _SHUUUUNNNN!_ (_Ah, Charlie The Unicorn..._) But seriously, spread the word. The Rocker Awards hath come! **

**Notes! **

**-**Melody:** I don't know... I know, I wished they could have kissed, too (does that sound weird coming from me?) but it wouldn't have worked. Plus, then kate would have been scarred for life walking in on _that_. Then Teresa would have actually had something to talk to them about. Madness. What other chapters are on your favourites list? And there's more than one? Thank you!  
-**DisneychannelwatcherWow:** Doppelgangers is on Hiatus right now, but I will finish it soon. Haha! Yeah, I think you've guessed like three other chapters. Amazing. You should become the next Bones (_am I the only one here who watches Bones?_). You'd make an awesome Bones. Although, Emily Deschanel is pretty sweet already. Yay! Thank you!  
-"**Ever since i read this story i cant settle for any other austin and ally fic.I AM OBSESSED! U are such a talented writer... please update soon!.*puppy dog eyees***" Aww, you! Thank you! I just do what I do the best I can do. So, thank you!  
-**DrizzleOfDarkness:** Yes! Wonderland is awesome! My favourite ride is the Nightmare! I'm too scared to go on the Behemoth or Leviathan (I like my life, thank you very much) but my sister says they're awesome once you get over the death part. Thank you!  
-Stephanie-chibi: _NOOOOO!_ I forbid you two to be anything _but_ best friends for-freaking-_EVAR!_ Thank you! **

**So thank you to everyone! And keep reviewing! Come on, I'm _so_ close to 500! Freaking amazing! **

**-KR Blake **


	17. When He Fought For Love

Chapter sixteen: When He Fought For Love

* * *

_"She can't see the way your eyes will light up when you smile..."_

― _Taylor Swift_

* * *

"I really don't care what you have to say, Ally," Austin says lazily, pushing me forward through the crowded cafeteria, towards the back corner table. "You _are_ eating lunch with us!"

"No!" I say in an adamant voice, trying to find some purchase in the cracks of the linoleum tiled floors. "Please, God, don't make me!"

"Nope, too late." He shakes his blonde head. "They already see us." He smiles and waves to Dez at the back table, who is currently jumping up and down eagerly, waving frantically to us and looking like he might pee his pants sometime soon.

"Ah, curses!" I yell, frustrated, crossing my arms over my chest and huffing madly.

"In your face." he sneers, and I have to fight back the nearly overwhelming urge to knee him where it counts. Instead, I just do what I do best when it comes to Austin.

"No, I believe it's '_up your ass,_'" I say icily, though I stop fighting his grip.

"Oh!" he hoots laughingly. "Score one for Dawson!"

"You know it, Moon." I say smugly, as if I've won, but I know I've lost this one. I'm being forced to eat in the caf, even though Austin knows perfectly well that what happens in the caf does _NOT_ stay in the caf. But his reasoning was that I was his friend and "his friends don't eat in the park like losers." As you can imagine, it was _extremely_ hard not to punch him in the throat when he said that, but I digress.

"Hey, Ally." Dez says as I sit down to the left of him on the bench. Austin climbs up to the tabletop on the other side of me and immediately launches into some winded discussion with the freckled redhead about how hard sophomore classes are.

As they talk animatedly, I slip out my brown paper bag of a lunch and begin to nibble on my PB and J sandwich in a self-conscious way. I am wishing so desperately that Austin would pay a little more attention to me—not in the needy girlfriend way, or anything. But I don't know anyone else at this table besides Dez, and I don't even know him well.

There is this drop dead gorgeous cheerleader—_emphasis on the "drop dead"_—sitting beside a buff football player, flirting obviously at him, but she keeps flicking her generically coloured hazel eyes to Austin subtly. It'[s hard to notice if you don't look closely, but I know she is trying to make my best friend jealous by flirting with someone else. How juvenile.

When she realizes that he will always be more interested in Dez than her, she flicks her yellow high ponytail over her shoulder and turns her full attention back to the buff football player, who doesn't even notice—anything, really.

The football player himself is all around stupid-looking. His mousy brown hair is gelled up in a small Mohawk, and his big watery blue eyes are certainly pretty, but I can see the space in between them any everything else. Either he's high or he's an idiot. The only difference is that one is permanent, and the other is illegal.

And then there are the two perky twin girls sitting across the table from me, talking to each other shrilly. I know they are twins because they are exact replicas of each other. The same dirty blonde hair tied up in the same French braid. The same seaweed green eyes highlighted by the same happy glint in the top corner. It's unnerving how alike they are, right down to their high voices.

And then there's me.

"Well, well," a drawling voice says in my ear, happy and laughing. "I never thought I'd see the day when Ally Dawson was eating in the caf."

I smile to myself and turn to Ethan standing behind me with his waxy tray of food. He looks the same as ever. His golden face radiates with a healthy, natural glow, and his reddish-auburn hair is sticking up at the front, like it does so naturally. He told me once that when he was fifteen, he tried to gel that part of his hair down, except Dez, who was their foster child then, replaced his hair gel with hair dye in a can. He had to walk around for three weeks with half a purple head, and half a red head.

Ethan sets his try down beside me and shoves Austin's legs out of the way, saying "Outta the way, rockstar."

Austin rolls his eyes and moves over to make room, and Ethan plops down beside me, smiling triumphantly.

"So how'd he blackmail you into eating here?" Ethan asks, picking up a greasy fry and waving it towards Austin before popping it into his mouth and grinning.

"I don't know—he confused me with pop culture." I shake my head, biting into my sandwich again.

"That's kinda sad." He smiles wryly.

"What's kinda sad?" Austin says suddenly, turning around on the lunch table and looking at us interestingly.

"That you can confuse Ally so easily." Ethan says simply before I can swallow my bite to reply. I shoot him an evil look before turning back to a laughing Austin.

"Ouch," Dez says in a catty voice, clawing his hand and meowing. I roll my eyes as Ethan and Austin burst out laughing, rolling all over the lunch table. I can't help but wonder how it is that I have become surrounded by men—and yes, Austin is included in that syllabus. For now. But things are always changing—nothing is ever constant. Things are always shifting in the universe. For instance, things are calm right now—normal, even—but I know they could change at any given—

"Aren't you looking dapper today?" a husky voice says behind me, making me freeze, ice running through my veins. I turn around slowly to Dallas and co., scowling.

"What is it now?" I complain. "Are you going to take my lunch? That's a tad unoriginal, even for you."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Dallas says in an offended voice. "Where is this coming from?"

I open my mouth to say something, but my guardian angel cuts me off. "It's coming from the S.S. I'm-Going-To-Kick-Your-Ass-If-You-Don't-Leave-Her-Alone." He growls, sliding off the table and standing close to Dallas, as if sizing him up for a fight. "Coming in from Philly."

I notice as they stand how much taller Austin is than Dallas—at least three inches separate them, but that doesn't discourage Dallas.

He just snorts in Austin's face, crossing his arms over his chest. "What, she's so useless she has to get her girlfriend to fight her battles for her?" he laughs back to his three cronies.

"You know, you really shouldn't talk about yourself in the third person, Dallas." Austin says with an evil grin. "It's pretty creepy."

Dallas's face falls into a colourful array of anger, embarrassment, and the need to one-up the Alpha Dog in the school. I can see it in his eyes; he finds Austin to be a threat to his social standing. He feels the need to prove _he's_ the Alpha Male at C.S. Lewis.

"You better watch your back, Pretty Boy." Dallas says with a forced laugh, batting Austin on the shoulder. "'Cause I'm coming for you next—right after I get your stupid girlfriend over there."

He waves a hand over to me, and I pale deathly.

Austin laughs a real, nice, buoyant laugh at that. "You don't have the balls to lay a finger on her, Dallas. You get your minions to do it for you because _you don't have the guts_." He growls, poking Dallas in the chest with every daunting word. By now, I am watching through my hands, absolutely horrified by what will happen next.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were threatening me." Dallas laughs, and his friends laugh with him. Throughout this whole ordeal, all they have been doing is mimicking Dallas's every emotion like backup dancers. Spineless idiots.

"And he sticks the landing!" Austin says, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. "You really are a sharp one, you know that?"

I can see the break in Dallas's eyes—even from the table. The tension floating in the air breaks like a dance crew (You see what I did there?) I yelp out loudly, and Dez and Ethan launch forward to stop them, but they are a split-second too late.

Dallas punches Austin across the cheek, hard. Austin stumbles back a few feet, shaking his head. He spits off to the side, and blood comes out.

Holy pickles.

Austin launches himself forward and tackles Dallas onto the ground. He sits on his chest, wailing punches across the other boy's face. Students from all around the caf crowd around them, chanting "_Fight! Fight! Fight!_" and calling out bets on who will pass out first.

I don't know how all these people have managed to flood around them so fast, but before I can even stand from the bench, I am blocked off from a proper view by tiers and tiers of chanting people.

Frustrated, I stand up on top of the bench and peer over their heads. What I see is… I hate it. I absolutely hate it.

"_Don't_"—Austin shouts in Dallas's face, punching him in the nose. Blood begins to stream out of the right nostril—"_You_"—he punches him again, this time across the chin—"_Ever_"—Dallas lets out a pathetic moan—"_Touch_"—Austin doesn't notice and punches Dallas again, this time in the eye—"_Her_"—Dallas has tears streaming down his cheeks by now, accentuating his beaten features—"_Again!_" Someone in the crowd tosses Austin a plastic lunch tray, and he uses it to whack Dallas across the face. Dallas howls out in excruciating pain, blubbering pathetically.

Austin raises the tray again, and I finally decide I have to intervene. Ethan and Dez are trying desperately to get through at the other side of the crowd, but I have something they don't: The hatred of the people.

I jump off the bench and dive into the crowd fervently. As expected, they move away when I step near them, and within seconds, I am within the ring of the crowd.

"_Stop it!_" I yell to Austin. He just glances at me over his shoulder and turns back to Dallas. He raises the tray again to smash Dallas's face in, and I do the first thing that comes to mind.

I tackle him from behind.

I know, I weigh, like, fifty pounds, but I have the element of surprise on my side. My force is just enough to make Austin drop the tray onto Dallas's chest and pitch forward. I drag Austin off of Dallas kicking and screaming, and the crowd moans. Some of them thrown insults at me, calling me a more colourful version of the terms "_wet blanket_" and "_party pooper_," but I don't listen to them.

I just focus on getting Austin away from the scene of the crime. Dallas isn't dead, but he is just moaning and groaning on the crowd pitifully, playing up his injuries worse than they really are.

I kick open one of the doors that leads to the portables just outside the caf, and drag Austin out with me. I don't stop marching until I can no longer see the school behind the portables. Only then do I release my death grip on him and shove him away. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I demand.

He just turns to me sadly, and lets himself fall onto the grass, on his back. "He was going to hurt you." He says to the sky. He sounds exhausted—I guess fights can do that to you. Especially when you're Austin. He can't hurt anyone—he won't. That's why this doesn't make sense to me. He completely blew up because someone was annoying me. Big surprise; someone does that every day, but he doesn't nearly put them in a coma. Why would Dallas be any different?

"That's no reason to beat the living _shit_ out of him!" I say frantically.

"But he was going to hurt you!" he says again, sitting up from the grass. He sounds like a child saying this—but also, kind of a man. This is what men do, right? They stand up for people, no matter what anyone else is saying?

"Austin," I say tentatively, sitting down beside him on the grass. "People try to hurt me every day. Are you going to beat them up, too?"

He twists a piece of grass in between his fingers, watching it intently. I can see that just underneath his mop of sun streaked hair, he is blushing slightly. "I just don't want them to hurt you."

I wrap an arm around him, squeezing his shoulder lightly. "You can't protect me from everything, Austin."

He looks up at me sheepishly, still blushing. I can see a purpling bruise on the side of his perfect face, growing to consume the corner of his eye. On an impulse, I run a finger around the bruise thoughtfully, still staring deep into his honey-coloured eyes. He winces at the contact, but doesn't pull away.

I think about the bouquet of flowers waiting for me in my locker, and the sweet smell of snapdragons threatening to pull me into another asphyxiating memory. I still don't know how he knew to get me snapdragons and tulips. They're so perfect together, you know? Like they were meant to always be together forever. Soul mates, really.

So… perfect.

Austin cracks a small crooked smile and says, "We'll just see about that, Dawson." He says wryly, nudging my shoulder lightly.

I shake my head ruefully, and lay back on the grass, staring up at the clouds. In the cafeteria, I can hear the bell ring, signally the start of class, but I ignore it. Why would I want to go to biology when I can hang out with my best friend and create a new memory for my mental scrapbook?

Austin lies down beside me, watching the same clouds as me, but I can see him in my periphery, taking them all in differently. He views them like mirrors, showing him different things from different perspectives all over the world. I see them as portals, pulling me out of wherever I am, into someone else who is happier than I. To me, there are body-switching particles within a cloud. They transport you out of your own body, into someone else's, so you never feel truly alone.

These particular clouds spring up an unexpected memory of when I was seven. One of the happier moments of my life…

_**-Flashback!-**_

"I thought clouds were your favourite, mommy." I said to mom beside me, lying on the grass. Her chocolate hair is splayed around her head, like a halo of melted chocolate. I know it seems weird, but that is what my seven year old self compared her to then: An angel. The best kind of angel.

"_They are my favourite, Ally-Gator." She said, pulling me close and staring up at the stars in the sky. "They're my favourite in the daytime. But at night, the stars come out, and they win my heart over completely." _

"_Do I ever win your heart, mommy?" I asked, looking over to her expectantly. It was nearly ten at night, but right then, I wasn't tired in the least. I felt awake and alive as the stars shone brightly overhead, illuminating the sky in a billion sparking places. _

"_No, sweetie." She said. I felt tears prickle the sides of my eyes as I heard her say this; did she not love me? She just smiled and kissed my cheek affectionately. "You don't have to win my heart, Ally-Gator. You already own it." _

_**-Back to the Future!-**_

"Does your mom ever say she loves you?" I ask randomly through a tight throat. Austin looks over to me, a dazed expression on his face. He knits his eyebrows together in confusion.

"Every day, why?" he says. I nod and turn my head back to the sky.

"So does mine." I say sadly. "Every day, before I go to sleep." I find myself saying this; I don't know why. Why would he care? It's just me and my horrible actions towards my mom. "Sometimes she comes in in the middle of the night when I'm supposed to be sleeping and kiss my forehead. Just for the hell of it."

"Why are you telling me all this?" he asks. I ignore him.

"You know, she always wanted a big family. Four, maybe five kids." It's hard to say this—I don't like to talk about it at all. It always hurts too much to think that I could have had a little brother or sister had things gone in another direction. "But after she had me, the doctor told her she could never have kids again. Sucks, right?"

"Ally, where are you going with this?" again, I ignore him.

"I was her only shot at a loving child and I blew it. I told her I hated her, but I don't. How could I?" I find myself rambling on crazily. "She's my mommy. I love her. I totally and completely love her."

"Don't you think you should be telling your mom this?" he raises his eyebrows expectantly.

"Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on, Moon." I say irritably. Taking a deep breath, I wait for a moment before saying, "Do me a favour? If you ever love someone, don't mess it up. Tell them. They deserve to know."

He turns on his side to face me, his gaze soft. I can see something behind his eyes, something more, like I had that night I had dinner with his family. He was about to tell me something important, but he just couldn't get it out. He has the same look now. The same withheld look that tortures him because he can't form the words to get his message out. It hurts me to see him like this, so pained in the silence.

Finally, he manages to say, "I promise." His voice is thick with emotion. And I know, right at that moment, he loves someone beyond words. He wants to tell her so badly, but he can't get the words out. And it physically hurts him.

I shift my position so my head is rested on his chest and let him wrap his arms around me. I find myself wondering if he has ever held her like this; so naturally. And what does she look like? Is she prettier than me? Do I know her? Will she try to steal my best friend?

But most of all, who is she? Who could have possibly made him fall so hard that his heart is hammering against his rib cage next to my ear? Who could have out him in such a state? Who could have caught the eye so fervently of Austin freaking Moon?

* * *

**So how was that? Not worth the wait? In know. But I did like the part where Ally was trying to figure out who Austin is in like with. A wonderful display of satire, right? **

**IMPORTANT: On Monday, October first, write the words "Keep Fighting" on your wrist. This is in support of those who self-harm. Remind them - and yourself - that no one is alone in this world. Pass it on. Tweet it. Facebook it. Put it in an A/N. Tell your friends. Please? We need to do what we can to help others. It's our job as human beings. Don't let anyone go through life alone. Like Austin won't let Ally be hurt anymore. Okay, bad example, but you know what I mean. Please? **

**Notes! **

**-**Brit:** Haha, it's only been two weeks! Sorry, but I've just been really busy with school and writing. Thank you!  
-**"I watch bones...it rocks":** I know, right!? Did you see the newest episode? That divorced couple was so messed up... And the end! Oh, the end. I felt like vomiting; it was too cute!  
-**Britwolf:** I am working on an original book, actually **(Sarah. If you're reading this, we're looking at you.)** It will the a trilogy called "_The Trials of Avery X_." I'm pretty excited, but I'm only on chapter six. Writing a book is much harder than writing a fic. Thank you!  
-**Melody:** Actually, as I have been informed, I have made a mistake (_gasp!_) Anastasia is actually a Fox movie, not Disney. I know, right? Weird. The Hunchback of Notre Dame is Disney, though. I imdb'd it. Yes, I did make her wear yellow consciously. I thought it would make someone somewhere smile. She didn't know what yellow means to Austin, but I do, so it's okay. Hold on to that guy. Because some girl will stroll along and try to steal him from you. Good guys are surprisingly hard to come by nowadays. Thank you! P.S.: I loved the broccoli, too!  
-**cantloginsorry:** Haha! I love epic Dez moments! They just make my day so much better! Like when he wanted pudding to come out of the tuba in _Success & Setbacks_. One of his finer plans. Pudding really does make everything better. It's okay; I love long reviews! They make me feel wanted. Thank you so much!  
-**DisneychannelwatcherWow:** Yes, that was me! It was in Popular to Invisible! Austin and Ally watched in on their first date, and then later, that's how he proposed to her. Thank you. I love Ally's family, too, mostly because they're so close to mine. Trish is my sister, Nanny Allie is my mom, and Austin Roman is me, I guess. Come to think of it, I don't know why I love them so much... Thank you again!  
-**kelly:** Haha! Thank you so much! But how do you praise this story?  
-**Anna-chibi:** Just ignore me. I don't even know what I'm saying half the time. So how do you say "Guadelupe-chan"? Is she an A&Aer? Thank you so much!  
-**Stephanie-chibi:** Refer to above for my reiteration. It's good that you're still friends, though. Thank you!  
-**"Absolutely amazing plot...":** Wow. Thanks. I don't know where the plot came from, really. It just... came. Out of nowhere. Weird. Those stories frustrate me, too, so don't worry. You're no alone. Thank you again, and of course I'm going to keep updating! Ally hasn't even realized she is deeply, madly, and irreversibly in love with Austin yet! Just kidding; that's a bit too extreme. Well...  
**

**Over 500 reviews! You guys are so fucking awesome! Pardon my French. But it's pretty awesome. Keep up the great work! Please? **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	18. the Dawson Family Rapture

Chapter seventeen: the Dawson Family Rapture

* * *

"_Even without being believed, magic can change things. It moves invisibly through the air, dissolving the usual ways of seeing, allowing new ways to creep in, secretly, quietly, like a stray cat sliding thought the bushes."_

― _Janet Taylor Lisle, Afternoon of the Elves_

* * *

"Gah! Detention is _sooo_ boring!" Austin says in a dramatic complaint, throwing his arms up in exasperation. I can't help but roll my eyes at this.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have broken Dallas's nose!" I chastise him. "Or skipped class." I send him a pointe look, which he returns with a grin.

"Hey, you're just as guilty on that front as I am." He points out. I shrug in admission.

We'd just spent the past hour and a half in the back of some empty French classroom with a hundred-year old teacher glaring at us without blinking ever. It had been my first time in detention, and I'm not planning on continuing this streak. It was horrible in that class, even with Austin beside me the entire time…

"Yes, but at least _I_ don't have to do that for the rest of the year." I say with a smirk.

"That hurts, Dawson." Austin says in a hurt voice, though his glowing face tells a different tale. "That really does."

"Suck it up, buttercup."

We walk across the empty parking lot towards Austin's battered Chevy side by side, nudging each other like best friends do when they have nothing better to do. Austin has his arm draped around my shoulder lazily and my flowers hang from my hand, reflecting the afternoon light, making the waxy textures seem almost Photoshopped.

I've always marvelled at the Miami sun that way. It can make things seem so glossed over and animated—like it's too good to be true. Surreal. Like right now, sure, Austin and I have just gotten out of detention, and sure, he has to go back there every day for the next month, until Christmas break and then end of 2012, but that doesn't seem so bad right now. Not in the Miami sun.

We lapse in silence for the rest of the walk across the parking lot, nudging each other occasionally, or flicking each other's hair in our faces, or, you know, just annoying each other. In a totally loving, friendly way.

As we reach his car, Austin slips his backpack off his shoulder and pulls something out of the front pocket. A letter. "I almost forgot; the principal told me to give this to you, after—and I quote—'_we've stopped canoodling our way into teen parenting._'"

I roll my eyes at this, the unfortunate events of today playing through my mind once again, making me blush deeply. Sadly, Austin and I had been… "_discovered_" this afternoon during fourth period biology by the principal. He had flipped out, turning his signature shade of beet red, and screamed at us about canoodling in his schoolyard.

_Why_ does this seem to be a recurring pattern? _Why?_

"Alright, pass it over." I say, extending my hand towards the crisp white envelope. What Austin does next is completely out of my control.

He grabs me by the wrist and twirls me around like a ballerina, planting me against the hood of the Chevy, and wraps one arm around my waist tightly, the other hand slipping behind my neck, pressing himself against me.

"Nope, not yet. We haven't canoodled our way into teen parenting yet." He says seriously into my hair, though I can feel the smile against my ear, glowing and wide. I let him hug me and smile into his chest, revelling in his soft scent of a fresh summer breeze and the undertone of fabric softener. The scent that makes me feel so warm and fuzzy and safe when it envelopes me so wholly.

He laughs into my head as he burrows his nose into the crook of my neck, tickling me when his eyelashes brush against my skin and making me laugh just as gleefully. It's not a bad feeling—this act of him burrowing into my neck. I kind of—really—like it.

Though, I can feel something off in him. It feels like he's holding himself back. Like he's scared to go any further. Odd, right? How could anyone be scared to hug someone tighter, or hold them closer, or even let someone see how hurt you can be? Because this is how Austin feels against me, right now. It's just a little bit—I wouldn't even notice it if he weren't my best friend—but still, it breaks my heart.

Is this considered normal? For some… boy that only months previous you were cursing the mere thought of… is it normal for him to be able to break your heart so easily? I shouldn't think so, but then again, what do I know? I'm just me. Just Ally. I don't know anything about hearts—not the love prospect of them, anyways.

Though I do know that a kitchen faucet would need to be turned on all the way for at least 45 years to equal the amount of blood pumped by the heart in an average lifetime. If that helps. Which I doubt it does…

Gah! What in the hell is wrong with me!? I'm jumping all around the place, from Austin being heartbroken, to kitchen faucets. Really, brain? _Now?_ There is a time and a place for everything (though, in all honesty, I can't recall a situation where I've needed to know random facts about kitchen faucets). Are you freaking kidding me? Do I need to start taking Adderall?

"What are you thinking about?" Austin whispers in my ear, snapping me out of my half-baked train of thought.

He raises his head a bit to just catch my eye out of the corner of his, and I see that same little panic in the corner of his honey iris. It's equal to that withheld tension he held whilst hugging me. Panic and withholding himself… this does seem curious.

"Who is she?" I blurt out suddenly. He freezes, that drunken look on his face faltering.

"I give up, who?" he says playfully, but again. He is panicking inside.

"That girl you were thinking about earlier—you know; the one you love. Who is she?" I push. "What's she like." I can't help but be oddly excited about this; I love love. It's hard not to. It's love—enough said. That's another thing I got from my mom, I think. We both love love.

Austin smiles at my obvious addiction to love (_guilty_) and brushes a curl out of my eyes. "She's better than sunshine." He says in a silky soft whisper. "The most beautiful girl I've ever seen. Addicting. I can't help it, Alls."

The way he speaks, it sounds like he loves love just as much as I do. Like he's addicted to it—to _her_, I see.

I lean my cheek against his chest, and I hear, just faintly through his rib cage, his beating heart. The one that I'm pretty sure beats for her. It's odd, the last time I heard his heartbeat I could have sworn it was beating just for me. Of course, I had been half-asleep and could have sworn he was vying with himself to not kiss me, so. That was a crazy sleepover, but the craziest part—at least for me—had been hearing his heartbeat. I knew he loves music, but hearing his heart just sounded like he had the music in his veins. Like it was all he lived and loved and breathed.

But I guess that was just a half-conscious delusion. Because, at the magnitude his heart is beating, he has loved her for a long time. A painfully long time. So long that I begin to fear he will break right here, in my arms, and me in his.

"I love…" he begins before our heart wrenching moment is thankfully shattered. For some reason, I can't help but think that his sudden infatuation for some girl is uncalled for—that he shouldn't need to love anyone… else. But then again, you can't be in love with your best friend, can you?

"Are you two done, or should I come back later?" an oddly chipper voice interrupts us that could only belong to the happy-go-luckiest boy on Earth.

Austin's hands slip from around me and he spins around to face his best friend, a slow blush creeping up his neck as he smiles breezily.

"Hey, dude, what's up?" he says in a rushed voice.

"Oh, nothing. Just came to see if detention is over." Dez replies, not looking the least bit phased by Austin's reaction to his sudden arrival. "So did you tell her yet?"

"Tell me what?" I say, suddenly forgetting the flustered feeling in my stomach.

"N—nothing." Austin assures me. "It's just Dez being Dez."

"No it's not." Dez says indignantly. "Remember what you told me on Saturday? How you lo—" he starts to say, before Austin lunges forward and claps his hands over Dez's mouth, prohibiting him from saying anything other than "_Mmmphmmmnphhmmunumm._"

"Tell me what?" I repeat, a little more forcibly this time. Austin rips his eyes away from Dez and looks at me, panicked.

"Nothing, just that…" he starts before trailing off; looking to Dez for help, but Dez just looks around, oblivious. "Dez has a crush on you!" Austin blurts out suddenly.

Dez and I react at the same time. My eyes bug out of my head, my cheeks flushing deeply within seconds. Dez, on the other hand, glares at Austin and flicks him in the ear.

"No, he doesn't!" I protest feverishly. I mean, don't get me wrong, Dez is awesomeness defined, and he does have really nice eyes, but… it would never work. Not in a million years.

Dez peels Austin's fingers off his mouth. "She's not wrong—I could never date her! She's too tiny; it'd be creepy. She's much more the perfect size for you."

"Dude!" Austin complains, slapping Dez across the arm, making the redhead yelp loudly, rubbing his arm.

"I can't tell if that's an insult or a compliment." I say, almost to myself. Austin shoots me an apologetic smile and glares at his friend one more time.

"You want to get going?" he asks me. I open my mouth to answer, but Dez cuts me off, shooting past me into the passenger seat of the Chevy, calling out, "_Shotgun!_"

I send Austin a kind of "_what in the hell?_" look.

"He's coming over for dinner." Austin whispers in explanation as he passes me, walking around the car to the driver's side. I nod and climb in the back seat of the cab, trying to figure out what Austin could have wanted to hide from me. And again, _who_ does he "_lo—_"?

Ω

"No, no, the porcupine wasn't eating the sweater, I was!" Dez insists from the front seat. He is in the middle of a rather long and winded story about how one set of foster parents had gotten rid of his pet porcupine.

"Why wasn't the porcupine in his cage, though?" Austin asks.

"Really?" I say flatly. "He's talking about eating a sweater and that's the first thing that pops into your head?"

He catches my eye in the rear view mirror and smiles wickedly. "I guess I just get Dez more than you do." He says through the smile. I roll my eyes obviously enough for him to see.

He's right, though—as much as I hate to admit it. Austin is the only one that can ever make sense of our quirky, redheaded friend. Even Ethan is at a loss for words sometimes. And that's his brother.

The entire car ride has consisted of Dez blathering on aimlessly about nothing, and Austin and I listening on in polite silence. But the previous tenseness is still there—I can see it in his shoulders as he drives. I keep replaying that moment in my head, when Dez almost let something dire to Austin slip.

"_Remember what you told me on Saturday? How you lo—"_

'_But what does "lo—" mean?_' I question internally. '_Look, long… love? Was Austin going to tell me her name? Was he going to introduce us soon? _That'd _be awkward._'

I am so muddled in my own thoughts I don't notice Austin pull the car up in front of my house. "Ally?"

"Huh?" I say, ripping my eyes away from the far-off place in space to which they'd been glued for the past five minutes.

I look to Austin and Dez, watching me in the rear view mirrors. "…Ally, you're home."

I blink, surprised that we had reached my house so quickly. "Oh, right, thanks." I say blankly, grabbing my backpack from beside my feet and slinging it over my shoulder as I slide out of the cab. I begin to walk up the cobblestone drive, when the front French doors open and a very ticked off—even from this distance—Trish steps out, hands on her hips and scowl on her cherubim face.

"Oh, look what the cat dragged in." she says indignantly, walking towards the Chevy instead if me. Oh, that can_not_ be good.

Austin rolls down his window and brings on that Golden Boy Charm of a perfect smile I know all too well from school, dazzling even Trish. She stops walking and, for a second, I swear she blushes. But just for a second before she forces her face into stoniness again.

"Are you coming in for a snack?" she asks innocently enough, but I know my cousin. Nothing she ever does—even when we were kids—is "_innocent enough_."

"Oh, well, I don't know—" Austin starts, but Trish, of course, answers for him. She does that a lot.

"Well I do, you're coming in for a snack." She says almost robotically, popping the door open for him. She glances across Austin to Dez and looks the smiling boy up and down. "Ginger can come, too."

Dez's face lights up—for Dez, I mean. Usually his face is just "_lit up_," but now it's about the equivalent of the Festival of Lights. He grabs his stuff and practically flies out of the cab after Trish's quick-moving form. Austin and I hang back a bit and watch in awe as Dez follows her into my house like a lost puppy.

"That's just weird." I say in a daze.

"Yeah." Austin nods heedlessly. "Your cousin is so bossy."

I shrug. "You get used to it."

We walk side by side into the house that I think has become like a third hone to Austin—after the Garriwick's, that is. When he's not at home or Dez's, he's here, playing with the ancient piano in the corner of the family room or bumming up the couch and eating our food. Just like another Dawson.

Shutting the door behind me, I drop my backpack beside the door and slip off my shoes, smiling at the homely scent of Nanny Allie cooking up a storm in the kitchen. Cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla…

Trish and Dez, I see, are already sitting in the family room with Aunt Roman, chatting lightly. Well, it's not so much "_Aunt Roman, Trish, and Dez chatting_" as "_Trish and Dez_" chatting. It's weird. He says something with that beaming, baby smile on his face, and she laughs, practically glowing. It's almost like they're… flirting.

Ew.

As Austin and I walk into the family room, Trish looks up, still laughing giddily. "Are you guys going to just block the door or are you going to sit down?"

I can tell that question isn't geared towards me, though—it's to Austin.

It's coming—the Dawson Family Rapture. When my family interrogates Austin.

Austin, unfortunately, doesn't notice this as unusual, and sinks down easily into the lay-z boy recliner beside the couch. "I'm Austin Moon." he says, offering his hand to my aunt, which she ignores. His fingers curl in slowly, letting his hand drop into his lap awkwardly. "Okay then."

Sitting down on the armrest of the lay-z boy, I brace myself for the questions.

"So how old are you… Austin?" Aunt Roman asks, sounding reluctantly to address Austin by name.

"Sixteen, ma'am." He answers automatically with that damn Golden Boy Smile.

"Don't call me ma'am." She says darkly.

"Yes… yes." He nods. I have to stifle a snort—if he was planning on wooing my family, he was failing miserably.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" Trish jumps in. Austin's face immediately flushes—something that doesn't go unnoticed. Trish smiles wickedly.

"Um, no." Austin says, but I can tell he wishes he could say otherwise. I give his hand a little squeeze in comfort and nudge his shoulder with my elbow. He nudges back, smiling faintly, but still looking like he might vomit.

"Why not—a hot guy like you, sixteen, charming, funny… Are you mentally unstable or something?"

Austin laughs awkwardly, squirming in his seat. "No, I'm mentally sound—"

"That's a matter of opinion." I mutter low enough for only him to hear. He glares at me good naturedly and continues.

"But I'm waiting for just the right girl to come around." He finishes. Roman and Trish nod, impressed, and Dez catches his eye, giving him a covert nod.

"So what do you like to do in your free time?" Trish asks.

"Uh… video games, watch movies, basketball, singing, dancing, acting, making balloon animals… I like anything, really." He lists off his hobbies on his slender, musician fingers. "Music, especially. I doubt I could live without it."

"Anya likes music, too." Nanny Allie says, appearing in the doorway holding two trays full little finger sandwiches. She sets them down on the coffee table and sits down beside her youngest daughter, eyeing Austin irately.

"Oh, I know!" Austin says, bouncing up and down a bit in his seat, not taking any notice to Nanny Allie's stern glare. "She's amazing—have you ever heard her play Mozart's Fifth Symphony? Angels, I swear."

Allie nods, impressed. "Of course I've heard her play, boy—I taught her."

"Well then you are a miracle worker as well as a genius—anyone who could teach her the Third Rachimanoff Concerto has to be." His face is glowing in that exact way it always does when he speaks so passionately about music.

"Actually, I haven't had a piano lesson in… months." I whisper to him under my breath. "I taught that one to myself."

"Well then you, Allyson Dawson, are a genius and a miracle worker." He says, slightly flabbergasted.

"What about you, Austin?" Trish asks. "What do you play?"

"Flute, piano, violin, drums, harp—anything, really. I can even play a trumpet through another trumpet. But guitar is hands down my favourite." He answers brightly.

And then Nanny Allie says something that would certainly indicate—encourage, even—a Dawson Family Rapture. "Play something for me." she says, pointing to the rickety old piano in the corner of the room.

She doesn't ask people to play—not for her. She's too picky and precise. Not even mom, her own daughter, is ever asked to "_play for her_".

Austin looks to me uncertainly, and I give him a feverish nod, smiling widely. He nods back and pushes up from the lay-z boy, walking over to the piano and sitting down on the bench. Stretching out his fingers, he pauses at the keys. Like he doesn't know what to play.

"Play that song you played for me last week!" I say suddenly. He gives me another uneasy smile and pushes the first keys.

"_Woahhh ohh, hey hey, listen,_" he begins, his angelic voice filling the room and brightening it immediately. "_I can't keep chasing you around, all of this running just bringing me down. It's got me down._

"_Every time I look at you the angels sing; I hope you hear them too. Ohhhhhhhh, oh, I hope you hear them too._" Have you ever heard something so beautiful, you can't help but be elevated by the mere thought of it? That's Austin. Magnetic to the brain and caffeine to the soul. And by the looks on my family's faces, I know they've realized this, too.

"_Got me feeling hypnotized, and girl it makes me feel alive. Heeyyyy yeahhh._" His voice begins to climb in octaves towards the chorus. "_I'd climb the highest mountain and I'd sail across the sea. Baby for you I'd do anything. I'd fly to the moon. I'd paint your gray skies a beautiful blue, just to get one step closer to you._"

He catches my eye and smiles salaciously—this is salacity, right? Or is this just wicked? It feels like both. "_Don't hesitate there's no better time than now baby, the sky is falling down. Well baby are you down, down, down, down. I could wait forever and a day just to have you look my way_."

"_(Just look my way)_." I chime in with the echo. He nods in approval and continues on, his inner pianist showing immensely.

"_Look my way yeah._" Trish is swaying slowly in time with the piano, and Dez is staring at a certain cousin obviously in a daze, drool shining visibly on his lower lip. Roman and Nanny Allie just watch on silently, contently, smiling their identical mother-daughter ghost smiles.

"_It's in every little thing I do, 'cause baby I do it all for you. Heeyyy yeahhh. I'd climb the highest mountain, and I'd sail across the sea. Baby for you I'd do anything. I'd fly to the moon. I'd paint your gray skies a beautiful blue, just to get one step closer to you. _

"_I would write you a million love songs, just to hear you sing! Baby for you I'd do anything. I'd fight superman just to hold your hand. I have to get one step closer to you._" He catches my eye again, but this time, it's like he doesn't even realise that everyone else is here. It's like all he's seeing is me.

"_And now you're in my arms. I knew it from the start, that I'd never break your heart. If this ain't love then nothing else is. I'd do anything for just one kiss—I'd climb the highest mountain, and I'd sail across the sea._" His eyes droop closed as he sings—something that has happened on more than one occasion when he really falls into the flow of music.

"_For you I'd do anything. I'd plan a picnic on the moon just for me and you. __**Just for me and you!**__ I will write you a million love songs just to hear you sing. Baby for you I'd do everything._

"_Yeah, I'd fight superman just to hold your hand._" The song slows, sadly. I don't want this to be over—I mean, who would want an angel to stop singing? "_I have to get one step closer to you. Ooohhh, yeahhhh. Just to get one step closer to you._" **[1] **

He hits the final note and lets his fingers rest on the keys, smiling, pleased with himself. After a second, he twists around on the bench and looks to my family, smiling more broadly.

They're stunned, just as I am. I've heard him play this song before—he annoyed me for twenty minutes straight last week until I sat down and listened to it—but it still hits hard. Really hard. Austin has this way of making you feel like you're the only person in the world that matters. It's infuriating, yes, but also… special. It's like his super power.

"Impressive." Nanny Allie nods, breaking the serene silence of the living room.

"More like amazing." I breathe. His cheeks flush at this, and he bows his head, as if hiding under the shield of his blonde mop.

"Thanks, I've been working on it for, like, two months." He says bashfully.

The room lapses into silence again—this time, an uncomfortable one. Until the second Dawson Family Rapture arises. "Now it's Anya's turn!" Dez announces happily, sounding like a little child on Christmas.

"Umm, no." I say blatantly. Nanny Allie shifts her gaze on to me—just for a second—and I'm suddenly convinced. You don't argue with her any more than you argue with Sheldon Cooper, Sherlock, Jack Sparrow, Doctor Who, or Mrs. Weasely.

I stand from the lay-z boy and walk reluctantly over to the piano, taking Austin's place. He stands and leans against the side of the piano, like he has done so many times when we're alone, playing when my parents aren't home. When it's just us, goofing off with the keys. He smiles just the same way, as well. Kind of crooked and wry, but sincere at the same time.

Austin Moon is a man of oxymoron.

I tap the keys lightly, wishing I could go back to those afternoons when it's just us singing and playing together. Sometimes he'd bring his guitar and we'd… sorta sync. In a weird, perfect way.

"Ally," Austin whispers. I look up from the piano to see him watching me intently. "Just play what you feel. Remember what you told Kate that time we took her to the waterpark and she was too scared to go down the slide by herself?"

"Just don't look down." **[2]** I breathe in answer.

"And it won't be so bad." He finishes with a slight smile.

I nod, and hit the first key.

The first key to a song is like… jumping off a cliff. There's no looking back from that first key, just like there's no looking back from jumping off that cliff.

Ω

"Are you sure you have to go?" Trish says to Dez and Austin (mostly Dez), pouting her bottom lip oh-so slightly. It's not nearly enough for her mother to notice, but I'm not her mother. I notice. As Austin and Dez walk out the front door, into the evening air, sending their final goodbyes and waves to us, I pull out my phone.

To: Trish De La Rosa

_639-385-2485 _

Her phone buzzes in her jeans pocket and she pulls it out, glancing at the screen. She looks over to me as she shuts the front door. I send her a second text before she can vocalize the question forming on her lips.

To: Trish De La Rosa

_If you wanted to call Dez. _

She shoots me an irritated glare as we walk into the kitchen, and, for a second, I think I've made a mistake. But then her face softens and she nudges my arm lightly, nodding a silent "_thank you_".

Oh yeah, I am a Love Genius.

"Hey, mother!" my own mother says brightly, bustling into the kitchen quickly from class—she was teaching a seminar today about the habits of Western Lowland Gorillas in love or something like that. She sets her messenger bag down on the table in front of me, barely taking any notice of my existence, and bustling over to the stove to kiss her mother's cheek and take over stirring the gravy.

"What's got you so late, young lady?" Nanny says crossly, moving aside from the stove.

"Sorry, mother; I had a late seminar." Mom says, sounding frazzled as she fervently brushes a curl out of her eyes.

"Well you should be sorry; your own daughter has been acting out again!" Nanny snaps. Mom turns slowly to look at me, but I barely notice—I'm trying to figure out what Nanny meant by "_again_". I've never acted out _once_—well; actually, that's a lie. There was that slight matter of pushing Dallas in the caf that time and skipping biology and Am His.

Oh.

"What do you mean '_acting out_'?" mom asks.

"What do you mean '_again_'?" Trish interjects, flabbergasted.

"Her principal phoned today—she skipped biology." Nanny says, ignoring Trish's interjections.

Mom looks at me degradingly. "Why can't you just suck it up like everyone else, Allyson? Is biology really that horrible?"

"No, no I didn't mean to, I swear!" I protest. "Austin got in a fight and I had to stay with him to make sure he… y'know, didn't kill the other guy."

She studies me suspiciously. "What was the fight about?"

_Shit_. "Just… stupid guy egos getting in the way, you know." I say breezily, praying to God she'll believe it. Or she won't care about me enough to dwell on the fact that Austin doesn't actually _have_ a "_guy ego_".

"Ally…" she starts quietly.

"Hey, Nanny, I have an idea!" Trish says suddenly, popping up from her chair like one of the moles in those _Whack-a-Mole_ games. "Let's go watch the news—in the other room." She adds seriously.

Nanny Allie looks like she wants to argue, but when she glances at her eldest daughter's face, she pales and nods heedlessly, following Trish out of the room and leaving my mom and me alone.

"Mom, I swear I didn't mean to skip again—" I start feverishly, but she cuts me off.

"Someone was picking on you again, weren't they?" she says in a clipped tone, leaning against the counter beside the stove. I nod. "And Austin stopped them?" again, I nod.

I wait for her to explode and tell me he's a bad influence and I shouldn't be hanging around someone like him. But she doesn't. Instead, she just twists around to check the food on the stove and says, "I should make him a thank you cake."

"Why?" I ask confusedly.

"Oh, would he like thank you cupcakes better?" she says innocently.

"No, no, the cake would be perfect for him," I assure her. "But… why?"

She glances at me out of the corner of her beautiful eye. "Because he looks after my baby for me."

This… stuns me, to say the least. I haven't thought of myself as her little baby for so long—her little Ally-Gator. I've always liked to think of myself as an adult, not a child. But I guess I still am. To her, at least. And I think I can live with that.

On an impulse, I stand from my chair, cross the kitchen in three long strides, and wrap my arms tightly around my mommy. "You know I could never hate you, right?" I murmur into her ear.

I feel her tense in my suffocating grip, as if she's waiting for me to snap again, but when I don't she lets the gravy spoon drop into the pot, making spots splash out onto the stovetop, and turns around to hug me back. Tightly. Very tightly.

"I'm so, so sorry, mommy." I say into her hair, feeling the pressure build against the backs of my eyes. 'I love you."

"I love you, too, my little Ally-Gator." She says in a strained, thick voice, as a single tear hits my shoulder.

We don't say anything else—we don't have to. We're going to be okay from now on, me and her. And it's all thanks to one irritatingly angelic man that I should really bake my own batch of thank you cupcakes for. The one irritatingly angelic man that has caused the Dawson Family Rapture—letting in a non-Dawson, accepting him, thanking him, even. It shouldn't have been possible. Not with the Dawsons. We're too stubborn, set in our ways.

And yet, it has happened. The Dawson Family Rapture. All because of this one perfect, special man.

All because of Austin freaking Moon.

* * *

**A/Ns: **

**[1]: _One Step Closer_ by Shane Harper.  
[2]: My own little parody of that part in _Costumes & Courage_ - you know the part. "_Keep your mouth closed; there might be pee at the bottom of the pool._" **

**_Excuse time! Excuse time! It's time for excuse time!_ So, sorry I've been gone forever, but I've just been swamped with schoolwork, and I've recently become addicted to Twitter, so... yeah. I really am sorry. What do you guys think? I liked the part where Ally called herself a "Love Genius". We all know she's not. **

**Notes! **

-Brit (the first time):** More Austin POV... I wish, but sadly, no. It's just Ally for the rest of the story. Although, I did have this idea to put some of the scenes into Austin POV, you know, just for you awesome readers. What do you think? When will he tell Ally... Um... I wish he could have told her already, but it's coming up soon! I promise! Aww thank you so much!  
**-Britwolf:** That's the plan, but it's taking a little (long) while. D'aw thank you! That would be fun... maybe a one-shot... hmm, thoughts...  
**-Stephanie-chibi (the first time):** Awesome! I go to an arts high school (but I'm just in the normal part of it because they don't have a language arts division) and it's so fun! I love how the randomest things are accepted! Like people just walking around casually in corsets and armor for the drama classes and uniforms covered in paint from the art classes. Awesome. Haha, yes, quite the little scandal aren't they? It's a deal!  
**-Anna-chibi:** Haha, that's cool! Good luck on your auditions, the both of you! Well that's good, because I totally ship Annaphanie-chibi (Anna- and Stephanie-chibi. Yeah, you two have a mash up name. Deal with it.) Thank you!  
**-Melody:** Oh, but she is. I'm sorry if that's annoying. That awkward moment when Ethan is homosexual as well. Haha, just saying! But that's awesome! High school fights: Never been in one. But I'd imagine they are if one of the guys is defending his true love's honour. Yes, people actually can. I don't (I'm a goody-goody, too!) but yes, it is possible. Other couples: Percabeth (Percy and Annabeth, _Percy Jackson series_), Booth and Bones (Temperance and Seeley,_ Bones_), Clary and Jace (_Mortal Instruments_ series), Will and Tessa (_Infernal Devices_ series), Artemis and Holly (_Artemis Fowl_ series), Fax (Max and Fang, _Maximum Ride_ series). And Raura... it's not that I _ship them_ ship them... I just think we should all see it coming. Oh! and Trez kinda! Thank you!  
**-Brit (the second time):** No, no, no! I don't hate you! I just had a lot of work! Please don't hate me!  
**-Brit (the third time):** Um... I've never actually been to Starbucks. Yeah, we have them in Canada, but I prefer Tim Horton's. Plus, Starbucks is just so expensive! I'm sorry I've made your phone boring! Thank you!  
**-Stephanie-chibi (the second time):** I'm sorry! And hi to the both of you!  
**-Brit (the fourth time):** 1. No. 2. Not today! 3. NO! I could never hate you guys - I love you all! 4. They did, but I'm back! 5. I don't get grounded - I'm an angel. 6. Yep! 7. Not particularly. 8. Not recently... 9. A little bit at the beginning, but it's gone now! 10. I'm a girl, so no, no girlfriend! And I wouldn't date someone like that anyways - whoever I date has to understand that writing always comes first!  
**-cantloginsorry:** Haha! Wow, say thanks to your brother for me! Yeah, I see what you did there! Aw, how sweet! Except I'm not a guy. But I still appreciate the sentiment! I'm pretty sure everyone knows why he attacked Dallas! (It's not like he's discreet.) And, really, Ally just doesn't think a guy like Austin would ever like *_cough_* love *_cough_* her. Well, if you say so, but there are exceptions to every rule. Aww thank you! I just sort of... go with the flow of how the words fit together, you know? I promise you all, I will never forget this story! So you zombies best be warned; Blake ain't going nowhere! I will keep you safe until you reach your next birthday. **

**Wow, a lot of notes. Sorry if this is misleading you to think this chapter was ridiculously long - I think it's actually about 5200 words. Anyhoodles, thank you all! You're so awesome! **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	19. Horrible Dream or Beautiful Nightmare?

Chapter eighteen: Horrible Dream or Beautiful Nightmare?

* * *

"_They say that none of us exists, except in the imagination of his fellows, other than as an intangible, invisible mentality." _

― _Edgar Rice Burroughs _

* * *

I sit atop my pink comforter, my knees drawn up to underneath my chin, staring at the crisp white envelope in my hands. I've never been scared of a letter before—not award notifications, or bank statements, or simple leisure letters from Trish. And it's not like I'm scared of this one, either.

It's the Florida State letterhead that has me terrified.

The triple torches **[1]** stare at me, like they're threatening to burn away everything I have ever looked forward to in my life. Getting away from Miami. Getting away from this life, where the only thing worth living for besides my parents is Austin.

This letter could tear all of that away from me. That's what has me too scared to read the letter.

"Ally?" my mother's soft voice breaks me out of my silent panic attack. I look up to her standing in the doorway, smiling blankly. "Are you okay? You seemed kind of… dazed at dinner."

In response, I held up the letter, clearly flashing the Florida State letterhead. "Austin left this for me—the principal gave it to him."

She nods and walks into my bedroom carefully, making sure to not trip over Trish's empty cot against the opposite wall. She sits on the edge of my bed beside me, and squeezes my knee lightly. "I have honestly no idea how to help you through this." She says blatantly. I smile appreciatively and she chuckles.

"Wow, thanks mom," I say sarcastically.

"I didn't think I'd have to get you through this at sixteen." She admits, shaking her head. "Boys? Sure, I've got some experience at breaking hearts"—I have to bite my tongue at this—"But not…" she trails off, nodding towards the letter in my hands.

"I remember when I was accepted to Miami U." she says in a nostalgic voice. "It was… one of the scariest days of my life. I just stood there for maybe ten minutes at our mailbox, staring at the letter in my hands. I wouldn't open it—I flat out refused to. My mom had to open it and read it for me."

I sit up off my pillow and shift my position so I am curled up beside her and lean my head on her shoulder, like I used to do when I was a little girl and scared of the Boogeymen underneath my bed. She wraps her arm around my shoulder, squeezing tightly.

"Will you read it for me, mommy?" I ask hopefully. She chuckles silently and kisses the top of my head.

"You don't really want me to do that, do you?" she replies in that professor-like tone I know she always uses with her students when she wants them to think about something so much that they go just a _little_ bit crazy.

I shake my head glumly. "I just don't want to do it myself." I sigh. Mom rubs my arm comfortingly, kisses my forehead once more, and says, "You'll figure it out, Ally. You're a smart girl."

"I wish I wasn't." I say. She laughs heartily, running a light finger through my hair.

"Life would be so much simpler that way, wouldn't it?" she says, smiling in that motherly way I know so well. "But what's life without a little challenge?"

"Easier."

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head, and stands. "You're impossible."

"Like mother, like daughter." I say with a glowing smile as she walks past Trish through my bedroom door, calling out "G'night!" as she recedes down the hallway towards her bedroom.

I smile to myself for a second, staring warmly at the place mom had been sitting in a minute before. I had missed her so much. A girl shouldn't have to go through life without a mother, you know.

"Your mother is possibly the best friend you will ever have. She loves you when you love her back; she loves you when you don't. She loves you when you cry and when you laugh. She loves you when you are wrong and when you are right. She loves you because you are her child, forever and a day. If you want to catch a glimpse of what the love of God looks like, look at your mother." **[2]**

That's a quote I've always loved for some strange, distant reason I could never put my finger on. But as I stare at that spot on my bed, the quote begins to make more and more sense with every millisecond. I had screamed at my mother that I hated her, and yet she didn't stop loving me, like anyone else would have. Because she's my mommy.

I look down to the letter in my hand. I don't want to read it—what if they rejected my case?—but I had to. I had to know.

Taking a deep breath, I slide my finger underneath the lip and tear upwards. My hands shake as I read the letter.

_Dear Ms. Dawson, _

_We are delighted to inform you that your appeal has been accepted. We will be revisiting you at C.S. Lewis Public High School on Monday, November the Twenty-Sixth at 3 p.m. _

I barely read the rest of the letter after that. Next Monday, as it seems, my future will be decided. Whether I go to university or stay a lowly high school student for another torturous year. Whether I move away from Miami for the next for years, or suffer in silence in this city for another year. Yeah, it's a bit of pressure on the fact that Monday has to go perfect.

"What's that?" Trish's tired voice says, thankfully pulling me out of the swirling ocean of my thought process. I look up from the letter appreciatively, over to Trish, who is sliding herself into her cot beside my desk. I set the letter down on my bedside table and slide under my own covers.

"University letter." I explain. "I have this meeting next week." I reach over to the illuminated lamp beside me and flick it off, instantly sweeping the room into darkness.

My somehow-but-I've-stopped-asking-how-'cause-it's-gotten-too-confusing Latina cousin shakes her head against her borrowed pillow. "You are too smart for your own good, you know that?" she raises a dark eyebrow, which I can only see in the silvery moonlight flooding in through the window, bathing her beautifully.

"You've said." I say, turning over on my side to face Trish. She faces me as well, smiling softly.

"It seemed worth repeating." She replies. I roll my eyes.

My phone buzzes beside me, and I reach over and snatch it off the bedside table, opening the new text.

_**From: Austin**_

_My day may be hectic. My schedule may be tight. But I would never let the day end without saying good night._

As I read the text, a warm smile grows across my face, and I accidentally let out an annoying coo, like those sappy, in-lovey girls do in the movies. I hate those movies, and I suddenly hate myself as I mimic their pedantic ways.

"Who texted?" Trish asks. I glance up at her over the top of the flip phone, whilst simultaneously keying in a response.

"Austin." I say, reviewing the text I have just written up.

_**To: Austin**_

_As the day turns into night, keep your worries out of sight. Close your eyes and go to sleep; for all the good times are yours to keep. Sweetest dreams :)_

I hit send and put the flip phone back on my bedside table, looking back up to Trish, who is eyeing me knowingly. What she knows, though, I—ironically enough—don't know. "What?" I ask.

"What do you mean 'what'?" she challenges.

"Well, in this context, I would say that 'what' means—" I start to say intelligibly.

"I wish I could say I'm interested in this, but I'd hate to lie to you." Trish cuts me off bluntly. She's never been one to… sugar coat things, per se. "So instead, I'll just focus on Austin. What exactly is going on between you two?"

"What do you mean?" I scoff. "There's nothing going on between Austin and me." 'Though I don't know why everyone thinks so…' I deadpan internally.

"Oh, Ally, Ally, Ally," she says with a tsk and the shake of her head. "Sweet little naïve Ally. You think Austin is perfectly content to call you his friend, don't you?" she chuckles in that dark way that she does so easily.

"He doesn't?" I furrow my eyebrows, worried. "Why not?"

She laughs in a "you're kidding me, right?" way, though making sure to keep her volume down, lest our mothers hear. "Ally, seriously? How can you not see it? The guy is obviously head over heels for you."

"Heh, cute." I say, suddenly so thankful that I have already turned out the lights—I doubt my incessant blushing would help my case right now. "But Austin doesn't like me."

"Okay; and Taylor Swift is the least vengeful songwriter on Earth." She says sarcastically.

"I resent that you think that." I shoot back. "But come on, I seriously doubt Austin would ever like someone like me."

"You mean a totally flawless music goddess? No, I guess he wouldn't." she says in fake empathy. I roll my eyes, flopping over on my back and following the grain of the plaster with my eyes.

"Oh, shut up." I grumble. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You're right. I mean, sure, out of the two of us, I'm the only one who's ever actually had a boyfriend. But you're right—you know best in this instance." She says. I can just imagine that self-righteous smirk donning her caramel face at this moment, taunting me to no end.

"I hate you." I deadpan.

"Love you, too!" she gushes. I shake my head, shutting my eyes. We leave our night like that, slowly fading into sleep. Trish is the first one to fall asleep, her breathing lulling into a low breath every few seconds, making me smile at the thought of having my cousin back for an entire week.

Even though I know she'll torment me endlessly over this silly delusion of thinking Austin would ever be interested in me, it still feels good to have her back. She's the closest thing I've ever had to a sister. Good natured teasing and all.

Burrowing down in my comforter, I run the day through my head again. What would have made Trish think Austin likes me? Would it have been the flowers? That's ridiculous; he was just apologizing for his mother. Friends do that for their friends, though. It's not like flowers are a declaration of love—well, not all the time, anyways.

Besides, he likes someone else. Someone who's not me. Thankfully. I mean, Austin and me dating? _That'd_ be weird…

Ω

"Ally?" a soft whisper says beside my ear. My face twitches, but I remain blissfully asleep. "Ally, wake up." The whisper says again, this time even closer to me. A hot breath tickles my neck, waking me in not an unpleasant way.

I groan, my eyes squinting through the darkness. But oddly, I don't find it hard to see at all. Beside me, Austin kneels on the floor, a soft smile illuminating his face. His elbows are supported on the edge of my bed, bare, as he is only wearing flannel pajama pants, and no shirt. The moonlight bounces off his slightly-golden skin just perfectly, making it look like he is glowing. His unkempt mop of golden hair seems to be shining in the moonlight, like a star glowing bright in the night sky, only a more golden-yellow colour. A colour that suddenly becomes my favourite shade of yellow.

There's an odd clarity to his muscles in this light; like I haven't seen them in months and months, though I know it has only been hours since those same arms have encircled me.

"What're you doing here?" I ask, sitting up in my bed and kicking my comforter off, exposing my pale skin to the sudden bite of the night air. He follows me, perching neatly on the edge of my bed. I suck in a breath as he moves—he looks so perfect. Almost animated. But that's Austin—painfully perfect.

"Sorry for waking you." He says softly. "I just needed to see you one more time…" he kneads his forehead with the heel of his palm, as if chastising himself for waking me up.

My cheeks blaze. "It's okay; really." I say earnestly, laying a hand on his painstakingly bare shoulder. But as soon as I do, a shock runs through my arm, tingling up my bones and electrocuting my heart. I draw my hand back suddenly, watching him cautiously. My heart races as I watch him raise his head to look at me in concern, asking silently if I'm okay.

Slowly, as an experiment, I let my fingertips brush against his upper arm. The same electricity shocks through me, making me gasp. I am suddenly filled with curiosity—why am I feeling this energy? Why now?

I push up more, kneeling beside him. Almost afraid of what might come, I slide my hand over his skin and rest my palm flat over his heart. The air stops dead in my larynx. The electricity is coursing through me again, yes, but a thousand times more potent. Like the resistance in my veins suddenly plummeted to zero.

"Ally?" Austin breathes, and my heart skips a beat. Tentatively, he reaches a calloused hand up and catches my cheek softly, rubbing the skin beside my nose with his thumb. As he rubs the skin smooth, my eyes fall shut, savouring the damn near perfect moment. But after a few seconds, his thumb stops rubbing my cheek. His hand doesn't move, but that's the thing. It just stays there on my face, like a stubborn lock of my hair might.

I open my eyes, only to have my heart stopped dead and then jump-started again. Austin is there, centimeters from me, watching me seductively.

Of course, that jump-start is absolutely nothing compared to the one I get when he leans in all the way; capturing my lips in a strong, open-mouthed kiss.

His hand drops from my cheek and curls around my neck, his other arm encircling me in a powerful embrace. I lean back, and we land on my pillow, his hands gripping the flowery pink fabric on either side of my head. He pushes down harshly and I let out a soft gasp. He stops the kiss suddenly, but doesn't move his face from millimeters above mine.

"Are you… are you okay?" he asks carefully. I smirk in response and wrap my arms around his neck, forcing him to kiss me again. He doesn't complain. Instead, his arms curl around me, guarding me from anything that could break the… of this moment. This moment where the both of us share breaths, and could live and die perfectly happily. This moment where everything stops being dreamt of and starts being acted upon. This moment where it is just the both of us, alone in the world, and perfectly okay with it.

His hands slide down my narrow sides to my waist and tug playfully at the hem of my small pajama shirt, taunting me with the idea that I could be even closer to him if I really wanted to. And I do. I _so_ want to be as close to him as possible. I can't control myself anymore.

I trail my hands lustfully all along his clearly defined biceps, moving my swollen lips away from his, pecking at his cheeks and neck. I feel him doing the same—somehow—to my shoulder, and I know for certain I'll have a… bruise tomorrow, if my romantic knowledge (basically, everything I've ever read in books) serves me correctly. Well, it will be difficult and painful to explain to my family, but worth it. Totally worth it.

"You're too perfect, you know that?" he mumbles into my ear distractedly, brushing a lock of curling hair out of his way and kissing my neck again, making me shiver at the feel of his warm lips against my cool skin. "It's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Austin." I laugh animatedly, flirtatiously. "Get over it."

"If that means getting over you," he says, catching my eye mischievously. "I think I'd rather take my chances."

I roll my eyes. "God, I honestly don't know why I love you." I say breezily before I notice what I am saying. When I do, though, my drunken smile falters. He raises his head from my neck tentatively, staring at me in shock.

For a second, I am terrified that he might run away, that me might not return these feelings, until he presses his mouth to mine again, softly this time, like I might break. It is the sweetest, most passionate kiss ever. I used to not understand why my parents would insist on kissing each other every single night before they fell asleep, side by side, their hands intertwined. But now it makes sense. It's because they love each other.

I let my hand slip over his rapidly beating heart again, and one of his disentangles from my hair and finds mine. Our heartbeats sync perfectly, pumping at the same pace, to the same rhythm. Because we share this mutual feeling in our hearts—this same love that burns bright for each other in our eyes. Because what is meant to be will always be the clear reality of—

Ω

I jolt awake, sitting bolt upright in my bed, my heart pounding, hair plastered to my forehead in sweat. Abhorrence thrums in my veins, and I have the sudden need to kick my blankets off. I feel so disgusting right now. Why would I dream something like that? With Austin of all people? I have to resist the urge to flick on the lamp, and curl up in a tiny ball in the farthest corner of my bed, staring at the floor beside my bed, where the dream/nightmare Austin had knelt when he woke the dream/nightmare Ally up. I half expect him to appear just there, grinning at me crookedly, telling me to stop being so scared of a silly dream. The way that he does so easily—so perfectly.

Stupid perfect.

Of course, it's not the starring character of that dream that has me so afraid—it's not even the events that took place. It's the fact that it had felt so real. I had felt his lips on mine so vividly—and I swear I can still feel them now. I had felt his hands fit so perfectly into the groves of my small waist, and tug at the hems of my pajama shirt, and hold my cheek, and wrap around my neck. And… I had felt love for him. It had truly felt like I was in love with my best friend.

It had been so heartbreakingly perfect; it couldn't have possibly been real.

Slowly, scared, I brush my fingertips over my lips. They're covered in slobber, like the complete right side of my face, but they're… normal. Untouched.

I feel a tear sting the corner of my eye as I fervently wipe the slobber off my face. I find myself having to comb over everything—my hair, my arms, my legs, and my mouth especially. I scrub my mouth over and over, hoping to extinguish the lonely feeling stinging them.

The tear stinging my eye finally rolls down my cheek and drips off my chin, onto my hand. Another follows. Soon I am lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, tears streaming down the sides of my face because I feel so hauntingly alone.

I find it weird, actually, that I feel this alone. I shouldn't, I know, but this hollowness in my chest… it's like I can only be in the happy company of someone when it's Austin freaking Moon.

* * *

**A/Ns: **

**[1]: The insignia of Florida State University; I Googled it.  
[2]: by Ryan Crowe **

**HUGE thank you to Sarah (Dont-Stop-Believin) who read this chapter first because of how scared I was and for not making fun of me for it! Thanks, Sarah! I owe you one! **

**Notes! **

**-**Tyler Tielor:** Hey! It's been forever! But actually, you were 571... Haha!  
-"**all of Ally's friends are boys Austin Dez Ethan ally is lucky**": I know, right? Man, I wish I was her... Especially since then I would end up with Austin forever and ever.  
-**Lizara:** He he, yeah... a... happy ending... Hey, check it out! A bunny on a bicycle! *walks off*  
-**DisneychannelwatcherWow:** Haha! Yes, Dez is certainly... interesting... Dude! Seriously! Get _out of my head! _This is just creepy! I was so close to making them kiss in that chapter, and if Dez hadn't shown up, they most certainly would have! But come on. There's no such thing as _just_ a hug with Ally to Austin. We all know that. Ugh! I know! I created this, and I'm getting really frustrated with her! Actually, I think you did... Okay, get out of my head! Witchcraft! Haha, it's okay! I know I need to write faster, but school keeps getting in the way :( But alas, until I'm discovered, I'm forced to stay a student until I die... Anyhoodles, thank you!  
-**cantloginsorry:** Okay, this review _killed me!_It was literally amazing! I'm sorry if I'm writing your life, but it's just so fun! Hmm... this may be the wrong time to bring it up, but mothers are rarely wrong. Just saying. I will give you five dollars to start quoting this story to him! (Not actually because I am very broke, but the sentiment is there!) But the way I'm planning on ending this story off... I think you'll start wishing this will happen to you. Haha, no please don't die! I promised I'd keep you safe until your birthday, and I'll be damned if I break that promise! Thank you!  
-**Melody:** Haha I loved that part! Yes, I have heard the entire album! Ugh - amazing! Have you heard _Shine_ by Laura Marano... I am usually a loquacious girl, and I don't know how to describe it. It's just... flawless, you know? Um... mashed potatoes, steak, and broccoli because you need your vegetables! I know! I LOVE gravy - especially the way my mom makes it. Oh! Just amazing! Hmm... I guess if he angled his head the right way, like he does in _Success & Setbacks_, then it would work out! But that's a good question... No, I can honestly say I have not had that sad realization. But then again, my best friend and I both regard all the boys at our schools as idiots, so... Haha! It's okay; you're not the only one. I mean, I don't have any holiday feels yet, but I know you're not alone! Thank you!  
-**Stephanie-chibi:** Ah. Yeah, at my school, there's only one special language arts class, and that's not until senior year :( Sorry I'm kind of a slow updater; I have a lot of work this year. But I promise to update whenever I physically can! Thank you, and I loved that, too!  
-**Anna-chibi:** Haha, it's okay; we're all in a rush every now and then, aren't we? Yes, yes we are. But good luck on your auditions, the both of you! And keep practicing, and THANK YOU!  
**

**Okay, so we are at 574 REVIEWS! And I haven't even gotten them together yet! This so amazing! I love you all so much! And please, keep reviewing; I love hearing your thoughts on me and my story! **

**-KR Blake Ω **


	20. Pissy Kissy

Chapter nineteen: Pissy Kissy

* * *

_"Clarice, the glorious city, has a tormented history. Several times it decayed, then burgeoned again, always keeping the first Clarice as an unparalleled model of every splendor, compared to which the city's present state can only cause more sighs at every fading of the stars." _  
_― Italo Calvino, Invisible Cities_

* * *

I walk briskly down the hallway, making sure to keep my head down, navigating automatically towards my locker like I've been doing pretty much every day since grade nine. I train my eyes so hard on the linoleum floor beneath me they begin to sting, though that may be the tears taking effect.

You may have guessed by now, but it's not so easy being me. Always running, always holding back tears from spilling in front of people who hate for no reason other than the fact that I exist. It's not easy being me.

Right now, though, it feels like being me would be easier than being this person I am right now. This person who is running from none other than her best friend, Austin Moon.

I've been running from him all week long, since I had that… dream about him. I haven't been able to face him, or look at him, or call him— or even text him without remembering what his lips had felt like on mine, both in my dream and in real life. So I've been avoiding him. That meant leaving for school before he came to pick me up, arrive in Am His early and claim my seat in the back of the class, and avoid the park at lunch, where he would know to find me.

Yay.

Of course, all this week, I haven't shed a tear, until today.

Austin cornered me after calculus, demanding to know why I had been avoiding him since Sunday. Was I tempted to spill everything right there in the hallway in front of everyone? Hell yes, if that meant I'd be able to be around him again. But the moment I looked up at his face, and his eyebrows furrowed in that worried way that gave him wrinkles in the forehead, and saw how his eyes were trained on me in such a concerned way… I bailed. I muttered something about having to be home to cook dinner, and ran.

But him being Austin, he can't let sleeping dogs lie, or however that saying goes. He chased after me like a madman, shoving kids out of his way, calling my name and all. I sped up, but that just made it hurt more.

"Dammit Ally!" Austin calls to my back as I turn a corner sharply, slinking through a group of niner girls, giggling over some issue of _Popstar!_ magazine, causing Austin to run straight into the group. I don't dare look back, but from the squeals I hear, I guess the girls have dropped the magazine and are each trying to get him to kiss them.

Teenage girls. I'll never understand them.

"Gah! Ally just—okay, stop it! Stop touching me!" I hear him say to the girls, trying to break away from the crowd.

Not that I blame them, necessarily. Austin _does_ have the nicest eyes, and the floppiest, softest hair, and the plumpest lips that always seem to curve in the same way whenever he smiles…

See, this is why I've been avoiding him. Whenever I see him, thoughts like these just… pop up, and I get scared. The last time I thought things like this—how perfect a boy looks when he smiles—I was staring at a picture of Riker Lynch in a suit.

I turn the corner in the hallway and push through the students, automatically finding locker 2352, and spinning my combination into the lock. 12… 59… 5. I swing the door open quickly and begin throwing books into my bag at random, only choosing those with weight remotely similar to the ones I had to bring home.

'_Just business as usual,_' I tell myself. '_Get in, get out. It's how you've done things for years._'

I zip my bag up and move to shut the locker door, only to have it shut for me by a strong, visibly calloused hand of someone who knows his way around a guitar.

Austin.

"Going somewhere?" he asks, startlingly close to me. I jump and turn around, wide eyed, clutching my backpack for dear life. He is standing only inches from me, blocking my only path of escape, unless I want to shove the kids at the lockers on either side of me out of my way and bolt. But my mother taught me manners. So I'm pretty much screwed.

"H-home, what about you?" I say, my voice quavering as I speak, avoiding his sharp gaze.

"Nowhere until I find out why you've been avoiding me all week." He retaliates.

"Oh, yes, I've been running from you all week, because that's exactly the kind of person I am when I get scared." I say, flabbergasted, shaking my head incredulously.

"Exactly my point—that's not you." He insists, moving closer to me to let some kids walk past him easier. Of course, in doing this, it only makes me press myself against the lockers more, and confirm his suspicions that I've been avoiding him. "You don't run from things Ally—not like this. So what's wrong?"

"Can we not talk about this, Austin?" I ask, pained, my cheeks flushing. "I-I have to get home." I try to move past him in the crowded hallway, but he just catches me by the wrist as I step forward and swings me back around.

"No, you're not going anywhere until I find out what's wrong." He remains.

"I-I can't tell you that Austin." I say, my eyes falling to the cracked linoleum floor beneath my sandals, fidgeting in my spot.

"Then I guess we're at an impasse here, aren't we?" he says, releasing my wrist and crossing his arms over his chest. "I want to know what's wrong and you want to go first. Who's going to be the first to cave, huh Ally? Who?"

He's just playing with me now. I know he won't ever cave—he's stubborn. Too stubborn for his own good. At least, that's what his mom always tells me. She says he's just like his dad like that, but that's how you can tell the keepers from the leavers; the keepers are too stubborn to become leavers. Whatever that means.

The silence is heavy between us, though we are in the middle of the hall directly after school. Kids laugh and run around the halls around us, slamming lockers and calling out jests to each other, while Austin and I don't move a muscle. His eyes are trained on me intensely, but I refuse to even look up from my sandals. It's like there's a bubble around us that blocks us from being distracted from our surroundings—or anything that could break this awkward silence right now.

"So you're really not going to tell me?" he asks finally, breaking the silence, letting me release a withheld breath. I shake my head adamantly. "Why not?"

"Because I can't." I quip in a tiny voice, which seems to be becoming increasingly farther from me as the seconds tick by excruciatingly slowly.

"Can't or won't?" he questions.

"A little bit of both." I mumble. He sighs; running a slow hand through his dreamily mussed up hair, making it look even more windswept than it already did. Damn perfect bed hair. Why can't he just have a gaudy bowl cut or something? It would make the world a much simpler place.

But of course, that would just leave me more time to swoon over his plump, pink lips, or his silky honey-coloured eyes, or his angelic-yet-devilish charm.

Yeah, it's a bit of a win-lose situation.

"Why are you so stubborn?" he demands, planting his hand beside my head on the locker, leaning closer. His face is distraught, but his eyes are only trained on me with a careful concern that makes my cheeks flush. I lean back and clutch my backpack even closer to my chest, like it's some kind of shield that might keep me safe from Austin and his Austin-ness.

'_I'll stop being stubborn when you stop being perfect._' I sigh in my mind, and force a blatantly fake smile. "You don't have to worry about me, Austin. I'm fine."

He laughs at that, smiling, leaning closer. "Aren't you the one that said that '_I'm fine_' is the biggest lie in the world?" he smirks.

"Well, yes, but—" I start, only to have him cut me off.

"And aren't you the one that says that when someone says you don't have to be worried about them, you should be the most worried for them?" he continues.

"Yeah, b—" I try to cut I, but to no avail.

"And aren't _you_ the one that no one can go through life alone—"

"Jeez, how do you know so much about what I say?" I cut him off abruptly, irritably.

"What, I'm not allowed to pay attention to you?" he scoffs.

"No!" I snap suddenly, frantically. "Would you stop worrying about me? I'm almost sixteen; I can take care of myself!"

"Ally, I just don't want anyone to hurt you." He defends himself. I accidentally let lout a snort.

"How ironic, considering just months ago, you were the one that hurt me the most!" I shoot back with flawless ease, the six years of practice I've had in defending myself against Austin suddenly kicking in.

His hand slips suddenly from beside my head and he makes an annoyed noise from deep within his throat. "You just _can't_ let that go, can you?" he snaps.

"No, it's not especially easy for me, crazily enough," I jeer. I see the snap in his eyes, and know I have just pushed him off the edge. A pulse of fear runs up my spine.

Scary things happen when I push Austin off the edge.

"_Jeez, Ally, don't you know how sorry I am about that!_" he all-but screams, waving his hands in the air madly for emphasis. I shrink back against the lockers as people stop dead in the hallway, staring at us. It's not every day you see something like this; the school's Golden Boy yelling at the dregs of the social hierarchy. "_Don't you think I would take the past six years back if I could? Don't you think I would erase them completely if I could?_"

"I don't know," I reply sarcastically, "you didn't seem too beaten up about yourself back then."

"_Because I didn't know you back then!_" he retorts loudly, making me flinch at the sting of his words.

"Oh, yes, so that gives you perfect liberty to treat someone like that." I snort.

"Why can't you just _let. That. GO!_" he thunders, slamming a hand beside my head, making me jump, and the colour draining from my face automatically.

"Why should I, since you can't seem to let this go?" I retort, stacking up the old prudent shield I used to keep up 24/7. It's funny, I had never thought I would ever need to have this up again—this fake manner of acting—and yet it comes up so quickly, so… robotically.

"But this is different, Ally, because I'm not some stuck-up little girl who can't see what's _right in front of her!_" he snaps in that loud, striking voice that makes me jump out of my skin. I'd heard him yell before—and damn loud, too—but it had never been… like this. He'd never completely gone over the edge before. I mean, I had (when I had been almost kicked out of Florida State), but he'd always been the one that had controlled himself.

It had always been the way that things went.

"What do you mean what's right in front of me?" I ask, offended, planting my hands on my hips in a defensive manner. "I mean, other than a crybaby with bleached blonde hair?"

He touches his hair subconsciously, his mouth falling open in offense. He stares at me deathly for a single beat, and it's like everyone in the hallway is afraid of Austin right then. No one says a word. No one _can_ say a word. There are none.

Then, all in one fluid motion, Austin spins on the ball of his shining colourful Nike sneakers and stalks down the hallway, towards the stairwell leading outside. For a heartbeat, I am frozen; shocked by how quickly he had backed down—he wasn't usually this dismissive. Until I regain my senses and stalk after him, furious.

How _dare_ he think he can just walk away from me like that?

I shove people out of my path ruthlessly, my eyes narrowing on the back of his head, anger pumping through me. It doesn't even occur to me why I might be acting like this—why I might be pushing Austin away, yet at the same time cursing the thought of him ever leaving. I guess I'm just used to Austin Moon driving me up the wall.

"Where are you going?" I demand, stepping down the steps quickly after his receding figure in the sea of teenagers.

"Maybe detention." He says flatly over his shoulder, turning around the bend in the stairs easily. "You know; that one I was sentenced to every day after school because I decided to help you out?"

I clamber around the partition between the staircases, though, tripping over my own feet like I usually do. Of course, it's not normally so bad when I wear my old sneakers, but I'm wearing sandals today. I don't know why, truthfully; I hate wearing sandals to school. It just feels so dirty and unsanitary. But I've just had the stupid impulse to wear them every day lately. They're nice enough leather gladiator sandals that wrap up my ankles. The only thing that would make them even remotely special to me would be the fact that Austin once said that they were really pretty, but that's it.

I stop on the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Austin to turn left and move into the hall towards the detention room—a dank old French classroom on the other side of the school—but instead he turns right, shoving the door open into the warm afternoon sun, letting the doors bang shut behind him loudly.

I follow his ravage path, ignoring shouts of protest as I elbow kids out of the way, glancing around the school yard for him. I see him stalking across the grass, towards the thin catwalk at the back of the school yard that he and I take every time we walk to Ethan and Dez's house. I stomp after him, again, not stopping a second to think why I might be so mad at him. I've been mad at him before—too many times than is healthy for a relationship, probably—but I've never felt this blind rage before at the thought of him being anywhere than beside me.

Of course, everything I've felt towards him this week is unlike anything I've ever felt before. Butterflies in my tummy whenever he smiled—especially when the smile was directed towards me. Sweaty palms when I saw him pass in the hallways. Nervousness whenever he would look at me, even in the smallest of ways.

It's infuriating.

"I thought you had detention." I demand as soon as I reach him, grabbing his arm to slow him down. But as soon as my fingers brush his, a pulse of electricity flies up my arm, making me yank my hand back. He stops and turns to me, his golden eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"What're you still doing here?" he snaps viciously. "I thought you wanted me to leave you alone."

"Yes, but you can't just—_ugh!_" I stomp my foot on the grass like a little child having a temper tantrum. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean?" he says, crossing his arms over his chest, waiting.

"I just—I don't know." I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I just… I don't want you to be mad." I admit.

"Well, I'm guessing it's a bit too late for that, isn't it?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Why are you so pissy?" I ask, mimicking his stature in crossing my arms over my chest. In my periphery, I can see a few students looking on, curious as to what is happening, though none take any real interest. Mostly they just glance our way and walk on. It makes sense that they would do this, though; it's not like it's an uncommon thing to see Austin Moon and Ally Dawson arguing over nothing.

"Why am _I_ pissy?" he repeats. "I think the better question is why are _you_ so pissy all of a sudden? I've been trying to talk to you all this week, but you've just straight up ignored me."

"I am _not_ pissy." I say defensively, incredulously. I haven't been pissy. Have I?

"Yes, you are," he disagrees. I narrow my eyes on him, taking a menacing step forward. He steps towards me in the same manner, a deathly look on his face.

"No, I'm _not_." I insist. He snorts.

"The more you say it like that, the more I know you are being pissy." He retorts cleverly.

"Oh shut up," I roll my eyes.

"Not until you tell me why you're being so pissy," he leans down degradingly, looking me in the eye seriously.

"_I am not being pissy!_" I snap viciously, probably looking like a rabid raccoon by now, but I don't care.

"_Yes, you are!_" he all-but yells, leaning down even further. He is only inches away from me now, but I hardly take notice to this; I am too mad to pay attention to the compulsory butterflies flying around my stomach.

"_No, I'm NOT!_" I return his shout.

"_Yes. You. ARE!_" he spaces out his words for effect.

And it does. Have an effect, I mean.

Because I lose it right then.

And I mean _lose_ it.

In an extreme fit of anger, I reach up to his face, cup both his cheeks in my tiny hands, and drag his face down to mine, crashing his lips onto mine.

His eyes widen as they look into mine, their dark whiskey colour clearing to a beautiful, shining shade of honey. A million emotions dance across his face. Anger, guilt, confusion, happiness… It's an odd mixture, though I can understand it, since I am feeling much the same things.

A second after I kiss him (a _long_ second) I lift his face up, blushing madly.

And though I can't see it properly, I can guess quite a few students are blushing, or gaping at us in the same way Austin is gaping at me right now. After all, it wasn't uncommon to see Austin Moon and Ally Dawson arguing over nothing.

It _was_ uncommon, however, to see Ally Dawson kiss Austin Moon on the lips during the aforementioned argument.

His hands reach up to my hands, which are still cupping the sides of his face, and wrap around my wrists. His lifts my hands off his face, but he doesn't let them go. He just stares at me wide eyed, not saying a word. Neither of us do.

It feels like the air has been vacuumed right out of my lungs. I can't breathe.

I wrench my wrists out of his warm hands, taking a step away from him and rushing past his frozen form, towards the catwalk. I vaguely register him turn and watch me go, as well as other kids, but I can't focus on that right now. I can't seem to focus on anything. All I can think about is the electricity still tingling in my freshly kissed lips.

Ω

Why would I kiss him? It doesn't make any sense—even to my highly analytical mind. According to history, I should be able to figure it out. But I can't. I'm just frozen.

Frozen on Austin's front porch, sitting on the porch swing, picking at the fraying flowered upholstery. I try to remember how I got here—why I came here—but all I can think about is that damn kiss.

It had been so fleeting, and yet even now, an hour later, I can still feel the heat of his lips on mine. It's like my mouth is a memory foam mattress. An infuriatingly accurate memory foam mattress.

God, I must look so sad right now, sitting cross-legged on the porch swing of my best friend's house, staring off into space, just waiting for him to get home. Thomas and Teresa are still at work—they don't get home until nearly six, and Kate is at daycare until Teresa picks her up at six. So I just sit here, moping, trying and ultimately failing to think.

My fingers wander up to my mouth again and play with my bottom lip.

Why would I have any reason to kiss him? And why had I _wanted_ to? I don't like Austin—he's my best friend. Best friends can't like each other. It'd be weird **[1]**.

But then again… Monica and Chandler did fall in love in _Friends_, so what would make me and Austin any different. Besides the fact that we are not fictional characters.

Other than that, though, why not? Sure, it had been crazy for Monica and Chandler, but at the end of the episode, they were always happy together.

And Percy and Annabeth in _Percy Jackson and the Olympians_. They were best friends before they fell in love, and it worked out for them. (Except in _the Heroes of Olympus_ when Hera decided to intervene and screw everything up, but I digress).

And in _Bones_. Booth and Bones were best friends before they slept together and she got pregnant with Christine. And it worked out just fine for them. They're completely in love and even though they hang around corpses all day, and Booth constantly risks his life as an FBI agent, they're still perfectly happy together.

So why would that be any different with me and Austin?

Because we don't like each other.

Right?

Well, we shouldn't. He likes someone else, so even if I did like him, it wouldn't matter. He would choose her over me.

But it's not like I like him.

"Ally?" a quiet voice breaks me out of my moping reverie. My fingers freeze on the tattered flower upholstery of the swing and I look up, frightened, to Austin's standing in front of me on the porch. "What're you doing here?"

I stand slowly, blushing at my own oddness, and refuse to look him in the eye. I just keep my eyes trained on his colourful Nikes—I probably won't be able to look him in the eyes ever again. Not while I can still remember what it's like to kiss him. So basically never ever again.

"I-I didn't want to go home." I say shyly, taking a great interest in my sandals again.

"Why not?" he asks, fishing his key ring out of his jeans pocket and turning away from me to unlock the door.

I shrug. "I don't know." He chuckles at this, shoving his house key into the lock and turning it. He pushes the door open with a shoulder and glances over his shoulder at me.

"Wanna come in?" he asks over his shoulder.

"Um, sure," I say, biting my lip. I wipe my suddenly sweaty palms on my pants legs and take a shaky breath, my heart thudding in my chest. I have to try something; I have to know. I have to know why I can't figure it out, or let it go. "Hey, Austin?"

"Mm?" he asks, turning back to me in the front hall of his house.

I step forward and, before he can react, wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him shyly on the lips. He breathes in sharply, stumbling backwards into the empty house. His hands fly backwards, like he's afraid to touch me. His key ring flies out of his hand and hits the wall somewhere to our left and bounces onto the floor, but I couldn't care less as his now empty hands cup my cheeks and press me to him harder.

My fingers knot in his floppy hair and my toes curl in. This is bliss, oddly enough. Kissing my best friend… it feels safe, yet dangerous at the same time. Warm and fuzzy, yet electrically cold. Fresh and new, yet aged and comfortable.

Suffice to say, it's pretty much the best thing ever.

Why? I don't know, maybe it has something to do with the fact that it's _Austin Freaking Moon_.

* * *

**A/N: **

**[1]: Don't lie, you all know where that's from. _Backups & Breakups_, for those who weren't lying, though, and haven't seen season 2 yet. If you're part of the latter, WATCH SEASON 2. NOW. ALL THE COOL KIDS ARE DOING IT. **

**First and foremost, SOOO sorry I haven't updated in a while, but, y'know, school keeps getting harder, and the homework and assignments just keep piling on, and I haven't had enough time to write. Again, I'm really sorry. **

**Secondly, a lot of you were asking how many more chapters this story has, and I'm sad to say that, after this one, there will be only one, maybe two chapters and an epilogue. Yes, I know, I know, I'm crying, too, but save your tears, because you have not heard my third order of business! **

**Thirdly, and drum roll please... I will be starting a new story once GFHS has finished! Yay! I get to brainwash you guys for another six months! I'm so excited! I can't say any details right now (mostly because I just don't know) but I do know it will be Auslly (of course) and it will be rated T, 'cause I'm a rebel like that. I'm still deciding between two different titles right now, but I'll tell you guys in the epilogue, m'kay? Are we cool now? **

**Notes! **

**-"Your story is so amazing I have never read a story like it I have read it like a million times! You are such an eloquent, special, awesome and amazing writer I hope I can write like you someday, love this story. I could make this review longer but that would mean I wouldn't get as much time to read Your amazing story AGAIN!"**: Hm, well, I've been writing seriously for over four years, so I can guarantee it won't be easy, but it's worth it! Haha, thank you! This review pretty much made my day! :D  
**-Stephanie-chibi:** Of COURSE I'm continuing! I love this story! Haha, don't worry, I'm pretty sure I'm weirder/lonlier - I actually _write_ this story. Haha, thank you!  
**-Brit britwolf:** Sorry I couldn't update before then, but I was really busy! Oh, that sucks, bro, but I hope it teaches you a valuable lesson - school always comes first. At least until you're eighteen and you can decide for yourself. But until then, your parents decide for you. No, No, please don't be dead! I'll miss you too much! Thank you!  
**-Britwolf:** Should I be worried that you know me well enough to know I could never leave a one-shot alone? Haha, no, it was just a thought, besides, I'm too busy with GFHS and the new story after GFHS! Thank you!  
**-Brit:** Haha, it's okay! I wish I could say it's the first time I've been mistaken for a boy... I swear, I should just start using my real name and save everyone the hassle. Well, good luck to your friend, I guess! Hm... fun fact about this chapter: one of the original drafts (there were like 3) was in Austin's POV, bu I trashed it a few weeks ago. Actually, since posting the last chapter, I have been to Starbucks (at a Cassandra Clare book signing! Yay!) and I have to say, I didn't like it so much. I don't know, I think it's just because I was raised on Tim Horton's so I like Tim's better, but yeah. Haha, thank you!  
**-thecheshirewold:** Haha, I know the feeling (Janzelle.) It's okay, I'm on the same boat as you. Aw, thank you so much! No, YOU'RE beautiful! Hehe, I'm so tired... I wrote the last 2000 words of this all today, and let me tell you: NEVER AGAIN. My head hurts so much, but It's worth it!  
**-DisneychannelwatcherWow:** So basically, I was scared because, well, I'm a kid. Seriously - I'm only a sophomore, and even then, I'm younger than everyone else. And as a kid, my mind doesn't... comprehend things like that. It's too pure and innocent. Huh. I guess I am the writer, aren't I? That sounds so weird to say/type. No, no, I love when you ramble! It lets me know I'm not alone! Neither can I! It will be so delicious once she finally figures it out! Damn. Someone figured out I'm a witch. I'm afraid you'll have to die for what you know. Haha, thank you!  
**-"when are Autsin & Ally true love kiss when is this cha done does ally like austin now":** Mmm... Maybe. You'll have to wait for the next chapter to find out.  
**-"as that a dream or real and Ally's fav color is yellow PS Ross Lynch birthday by mine im lucky his is Dec 29 ,1996 mines is Dec 28 , 2000":** It was a dream. Wait, Ross was born in '96? AWESOME! Now he's NOT two years older than me! Excuse me while I go fangirl.  
**-Anna-chibi:** Why thank you! I was a little (okay, a lot) nervous about the last chapter, but people seem to like it! Aw, poor Stephanie. Hmm, your friend would be right! This is coming to a turning point! And as for your other questions, read the Author's Notes! Thank you! Good luck again!  
**-aa fan:** Aw, me? No. Well, maybe not PERFECT English, but I do hate improper language. I actually flick my friend in the face every time she says "YOLO" around me. Haha, I'm training her. Thank you! And you did very well for a Spanish person! Better than a surprising amount of English people, actually! Thank you!  
**-"like i said, LOOOOVE IT! and im always here whenever you need me. you can just dedicate a chapter to me or something ;) lol. KEEP UP THE AWESOME JOB! XOXOXOXOXOXX":** Um, okay? I am super confused right now, but okay. Thank you!

**Wow, long A/N, but there are just so many of you guys! I love you all! Review - I'm at 624! THIS IS FREAKING AMAZING! *Ally dances in front of computer* Yes, I dance horribly, but you guys still love me, right? **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	21. At Least Out Loud

Chapter twenty: At Least Out Loud

* * *

_"The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible" _  
_― Vladimir Nabokov_

* * *

_Three days. It's been three days since I kissed Austin Moon. And three days since I ran away from Austin Moon. Three days since I left him; dropped him like cold turkey. I didn't want to—in fact, I was all for staying there with him. _

_But that little infuriating part of my brain was in control. It's the part that controls my fear. _

_And it wasn't doing its job so well. _

I set my pencil down momentarily and look around the hallway. I still have a good half an hour until my interview with the Florida State scout, but I wanted to get here early. School has been out for an hour, so the halls are completely empty of any stragglers. It's just me, sitting here outside the principal's office, silently going out of my mind.

And not just because I have the most important interview of my life in half an hour.

It's Friday that's stuck in my head.

Stupid Fridays.

_**-Flashback!- **_

_I waited for gravity to come crashing back down on us—for him to push me away and tell me I'm crazy for kissing him, but that moment never came. Gravity never came crashing down on us. It never ripped us apart. It only pushed us closer._

_Or maybe that was Austin pulling me closer._

_His hands slid down to my waist and wrapped around me protectively. I could feel a smile tug at the corners of his mouth as I kissed him. It was a sweet kiss that left me breathless. I couldn't get enough—I didn't **want** to get enough. I just wanted to stay here forever with his arms around me, holding me close._

_I think it's that realization that snaps gravity back down on me._

_I tensed up against him, frozen in fear. He noticed and broke the kiss, but he didn't move his face from inches away from mine. "What's wrong?" he asked, his voice full of concern._

_Looking up into his eyes, I felt like vomiting. "I—I'm so sorry." I stammered nervously, my hands sliding down from around his neck and pushing him away by the chest. "That—I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."_

_"Ally, wait—" he started, but I was already out the door. "Ally!" he called after me as I flew down the porch steps. I could hear the desperation in his voice, but I couldn't turn around. I could only keep running down the sidewalk, wishing the logical part of my brain wasn't in control. That part that always reprimanded me for feeling sparks when I was close to him._

_**-Back to the Future!-**_

I sigh, snapping my book closed and slipping it into the backpack beside my feet. I push my hair out of my eyes in frustration. My knee is bouncing up and down annoyingly, but I can't stop myself. I'm nervous. Mom and dad are still at work, Ethan and Dez have chores to do, and Trish and Auntie Roman have already gone back to Jacksonville. I'm all alone here, freaking out silently, waiting for this scout to turn up and judge the crap out of me.

Suffice to say, it's a slow and cruel torture.

I play with the hem of my skirt, scrunching it up then smoothing it out rhythmically against my leg. I can't help the nerves gnawing at me from the inside out. It's infuriating.

The worst part of this is I know it wouldn't be so bad if he was here—Austin, that is. I know I wouldn't be so nervous if he was sitting in the chair beside mine, telling me to stop freaking out or I'll overthink everything and blow it. He'd be holding my hand, waiting until I finally calm down to give me the pep-talk I so desperately need. He'd know just how to make me calm down.

He always does.

Stupid Austin.

"Miss Dawson?" a stern voice breaks me out of my infuriatingly Austin-oriented thoughts. I look up from my still bouncing leg to the two men standing in front of me. The first I know well—though I wish I didn't. Prof. He is looking just as bloated and red-faced as ever. I can't help but remember what Austin once said about him—that he looks like a yam stuffed in a suit.

The man beside Prof, however, doesn't resemble any vegetables. He looks like a well-respected man with his crisply ironed black suit and neatly cut salt and pepper hair. Suffice to say, he looks like an important man. My eyes travel all over him, finally settling on the shining Florida State pin on his lapel. I gulp.

"Are you ready, Miss?" the scout asks. I nod meekly, standing up. I can already feel my palms getting sweaty and my heartbeat speeding up.

"Y-yes." I say, my voice faltering only slightly. The scout doesn't look like he notices and stalks past me into the principal's office. Prof follows at the man's heels eagerly, but I lag behind a bit, fear building up inside me. It feels like I'm going to break down if I go in there.

I swing my backpack up and over my shoulder, turning to follow the men into the office, when someone calls me for a second time. This voice, though, I don't mind hearing say my name. In fact, it sends an odd thrill through me. I can't fight the corners of my mouth turning up as I turn around to Austin streaking down the hallway towards the office.

I open my mouth to say something—to tell him to go away—but the look in his eyes tells me I can't. It's a sort of desperate, begging look. "Um, could I please have a minute to talk to Austin?" I ask Prof nervously.

His beady eyes graze over Austin unimpressed, but he nods nevertheless and recedes into his office to chat up the scout.

"What are you doing here?" I ask as soon as the door clicks closed.

He gives me an amused look. "You really think I'm going to let you go in there without talking to you first?"

I shrug. "What's up?"

"Are you okay?" He asks, his amused expression falling into a concerned smile. "I mean, I know how nervous you get when you're put in the spotlight."

"Oh," I nod. "I-I'll be okay. I mean, you know me. I can handle myself."

"Yeah," he smiles ghostly. "Yeah, I guess you can."

I bite my lip nervously, shifting a little awkwardly in my flats (mom wouldn't let me wear my sneakers to this stupid interview). I hate this awkwardness between us. I can't even make myself look him in the eyes for fear of, well, him.

I mean, I know he's not one to criticise, but still. There's this suffocating sense inside of me that tells me to run from him before I hurt myself. It's the fight or flight instinct—the same one that made me run on Friday. I hate it. I hate being run by this sense. I like having control over what I do.

"Look, I really am sorry about Friday." I say determinedly. "That was… supremely stupid of me."

"Ally, relax." He says with a smile.

My mouth snaps shut defiantly. "What do you mean, 'relax'? I'm plenty relaxed. I'm just apologizing for something incredibly stupid and reprehensible and—"

I don't even get to finish off my well prepared list of adjectives (I may or may not have spent most of the weekend preparing what I would say to Austin when I saw him) as he pulls me into a tight hug, wrapping his arms firmly around the middle of my back. "Relax." He repeats in a murmur in my ear. "I'm not angry."

I'm too shocked to say anything other than, "You're-you're not?"

"No," he assures me. I feel my cheeks heat up as I slowly wrap my arms around his neck, reciprocating the hug. "Because it was you."

I freeze up against him, but for once, I don't pull away. I stay in his arms a second longer before he pulls away, smiling down at me, his honey-coloured eyes shining. "Now," he gives me a little shove towards the door. "Go get that scholarship. I'll be here waiting when you get out."

I adjust my backpack on my shoulder and give him one last questioning look over my shoulder. He nods earnestly, gesturing for me to keep going. I grip the doorknob tightly, almost reluctant to open the door.

"Hey," Austin says. I look back at him. "Just be yourself. They'll love you. I promise."

I smile weakly, opening the door to Prof and the scout. Prof is sitting at his desk, leaning with his chin in his hands, and the scout is sitting on the edge of the desk, sifting through a folder stamped with the Florida State insignia.

"Are you ready to begin, Miss Dawson?" the scout asks in a polite fashion. I risk one last glance out the door as it falls closed, to Austin leaning against the lockers, smiling broadly. I can't tell if he can see me looking at him or not, but for some reason, I feel like the smile is meant for me.

"Ally, please." I say with as much confidence as I can muster. Okay, so it's not a lot, but it's something. "Call me Ally."

"Of course," the scout smiles, gesturing to a comfy-looking seat in front of the desk. "Take a seat, Ally."

Ω

An hour later, it's all I can do to not stumble drunkenly out of that office and pass out in the hallway. Brains are not meant to work that long and hard, I'll tell you that. I didn't think it was so hard to smile without faltering and answer questions about myself as sophisticatedly as possible. But it is. Too hard.

I walk calmly out of the office, waving to the scout as he shuts the door behind me, and turn to Austin, who is still leaning against the lockers, and give him a tired look.

"How'd it go?" he asks. I shake my head and collapse against him, burying my head in his shoulder.

"Don't ask. Just hug." I mumble. I can tell he's chuckling silently as he wraps his arms around me and hugs me tightly.

"I'm sure you'll get in." he assures me.

"I don't want to think about that right now." I say.

"Why not? Didn't it go well?" he pulls away from the hug slightly to look me in the eyes.

"I just want to forget about it for a while. Take a break. Relax."

"You don't want to have to worry about it for a while?" he guesses. I nod.

"Exactly. I just want to focus on having fun. I just want to focus on…" I bite my lip as I trail off, not wanting to finish the sentence, but it's obvious as our eyes meet that we both know what I was going to say. Even if I hadn't planned on saying it.

_I just want to focus on you._

His face seems to begin to radiate at this and his eyes shine brightly. It's at this second—this split second—that it hits me. It's like a slap in the face as I finally recognize this look. I knew I'd seen it before, but I could never pinpoint where. I've seen it in my parents when they look at each other for the briefest of moments before going to work every day. It's a nice, warm look that makes me all fuzzy inside. It's almost like his eyes are singing that song—you know the one. The _Hercules_ song.

"_At least out loud, I won't say I'm in…_" **[1]**

Like.

Not love.

We're too young for love.

We?

"Austin?" I ask in a small voice.

"Mm?" he blinks.

"Why weren't you angry I kissed you?" I ask, a blush coming up my cheeks.

Different emotions dance across his face all at once. Anticipation, astonishment, embarrassment, wonder, happiness… It's very confusing. But I guess guys are confusing.

It takes him a moment to recover his composure. He reaches up and cups my cheek in his hand. "I already told you. Because it was you."

And I can tell by the softness in his face and his voice that he means it. He really means it.

I can't help but feel that tug of fear in the pit of my stomach as I begin to smile. But again, I ignore it. I don't want to be scared of this anymore. Who cares if I lose the best friend I've ever had? I can't be scared to try anymore. I think that's all it was that was keeping my vision clouded for so long. I just didn't want to lose him.

I reach up and put my hand over his on my cheek, and say the only words that seem appropriate here. "I only did it because it was you."

The hand that is not resting on my cheek finds mine and intertwines our fingers as he leans down and kisses me lightly on the lips. "Now come on." He says, smiling down at me in that glowing way he does so well.

"Where're we going?" I ask curiously as his arms unwrap from around me and we begin to walk down the hallway, still hand in hand. He shrugs, relaxed.

"I haven't figured that out yet." He says. "We'll just have to see where we end up."

I roll my eyes and lean my head against his shoulder as he kicks the door open for us.

I find it so odd that right now I'm so incredibly happy walking out of this godforsaken high school—this school that has caused me so much pain—hand in hand with the last person I ever thought would like me.

But I guess even Hell can be merciful sometimes.

Because I know that without this school, and all its painstaking events, I never would have gotten to the point where I know that, even with only a few words spoken between us, I am happy with Austin—_my_ Austin. Austin freaking Moon.

**THE END**

* * *

**A/N: **

**[1]: _I Won't Say (I'm In Love)_ from the _Hercules_ soundtrack. **

**I would like to say a HUGE thank you to both of my unofficial official proofreaders, Sarah (Dont-Stop-Believein) and Keri (heyitsme517) for telling me what was wrong with the original version of this chapter and what was right with this version. Merry Christmas to the both of you. Love you guys.**

**So, as I type this, it is 11:29 AM in my timezone; Christmas morning. Now, I sort of deliberately waited until this morning to put up this chapter. I wanted to say Merry Christmas to you guys. All of you - even those I haven't talked to because you don't have accounts - have made this past year... one of the best I have ever had in my life. I honestly can't thank you enough for being so supportive of me and helping me to grow as a writer and to become the writer I am today. I wouldn't be where I am today without any of you. So thank you so, so much. I really do love you all. Merry Christmas. **

**So, sadly, this is the final chapter of this harrowing tale. Now the only thing left is the epilogue. Wow... Is it really selfish of me if I don't want this to end? I almost don't want to give you this chapter so it doesn't have to end. But I have to. I'm pretty sure you would all hate me if I don't give you this chapter. But I hope I ended it well for you guys. So how was it? **

**I've finally decided on a title for my next fic, again, thanks to unofficial official proofreader Sarah! It's going to be called "_Breaking the Rules_". Does that sound good?**

**Do you guys also like the new cover for this story? I edited it myself! It took, like, ten minutes for me to figure out how to use the editor, but I did it! I'm pretty proud of it. **

**Notes! **

**-Brit: **It's everyone's Christmas present from me to them! And I'm sorry it couldn't be in Austin's POV, but I just relate to Ally so much more. Hmm... maybe! Maybe you could try writing it! **  
-ILoveDiego: **No, no, I don't hate any of you! But exams are next month, and ISUs are starting to come out, and it's just getting really hard for me to find time to write anymore. But I swear I don't hate you. Thank you, though! **  
-lizara:** No, why would I end it like Romeo & Juliet? That story is so depressing. I live in Canada, where if you end a story in a sad way, the Mounties come and beat you with a syrup bottle. It's not pretty. Haha, I hope that happens, too! But I won't end up EXACTLY like the author of _Fifty Shades of Grey_ because, well, that's just a bit awkward for a teenager to write... that... Yes, I just turned 15 last month, but hey, we can always hope! Haha, I hope I can meet all of you guys at book signings in the future! But I can promise you that if I ever get books published, I'll still write fanfiction. Maybe I'll write fanfiction for my own books and wait until everyone figures out it's me... That'd be pretty fun. Yes, I totally just slapped my computer. Shame. No, I'm pretty sure I'm not a creepy poser stalker. I think I would have noticed by now. Thank you! **  
-Anna-chibi: **Thank you so much! And Merry Christmas to you, too! Hmm... I hope I update soon, too... **  
-Stephanie-chibi: **That's okay, if you forgive me for waiting so long to update! Merry Christmas to you, too! Yes, Ally's emotions are a bit of a setback here, aren't they? Curse women for having emotions. Haha, thank you! **  
-Bluestar: **Haha, your review literally made my day. This is so sweet! Does this chapter answer everything for you? Thank you so much, and YOU'RE awesome, random internet person! **  
-a random kid (from chapter 17): **Haha, that's exactly it. Ally is book smart. NOT people smart. Thank you! **  
-a random kid (from chapter 11): **Eh, James Bond has never been my exact cup of tea, but I do love that theme song! Thank you! You're awesome! **  
-thecheshirewold: **Haha, thank you, darling! I think I'm going to start saying "oh my Rowling" from now on. Can I tell you a secret? I was screaming that, too. :) **  
-"'Pissy Kissy' the most perfect title...":** Haha, wow, you cat sounds pretty judgmental. And thank me? Pssh, I'm just doing what I love. Thank YOU for leaving such an awesome review! Ugh, yes, I know! I love that episode, even if there was no song. It was still awesome to watch them daydream about dating each other. Like, "just friends" don't do that. **  
-Brit (the first time): **I just didn't grow up on Starbucks. I grew up drinking hot chocolate from Tim Hortons while eating a vanilla dip doughnut. Haha, well, tell your crush thank you so much and that I loved him in the new Spiderman movie! Sadly, I don't play any instruments, but you can tell your dad that music ISN'T a waste of time. Music can save lives. It's so important to everyone, and if you're serious about it, then you shouldn't let him stand in your way. My dad isn't the most supportive of me wanting to be a writer, but do you think I'm going to let him get in my way? No, if anything, it makes me want to write more, so I can prove how wrong he is. Haha, I hope you didn't get TOO many odd stares. Thank you! **  
-Lema: **No, you don't sound pushy! Thank you! Dance it out? *Ally Dances in front of computer* **  
-DisneychannelwatcherWow: **Haha, thanks *insert real name here because I now know it* Yes, yes it pleases me much. Yeah, that'd be, like... weird... Haha, no, I love your rambling! I know, I'm so sad it's ending, too, but it has to. Nothing is forever, and it's time. Thank you! **  
-The Reviewer That Keeps Making My Days: **Haha, um, should I be worried that you're forbidden from going on here? No, don't worry about me! I'm not going anywhere! Ugh, I know! Percabeth was the first couple that ever made me ridiculously frustrated because they weren't together. I love those series'. Thank you so much!

**So, again, thank you so much to everyone here. I owe you guys so much. I can't even express how much these past six months have meant to me... just... thank you. So much. Wow, I'm literally tearing up. I love you all, and c'mon, review, please? For me? **

**-KR Blake Ω**


	22. The Evolution of Her Dream

Epilogue: The Evolution of Her Dream

* * *

_"Take a little look at the life of Miss Always Invisible_  
_Look a little closer, I really really want you to put yourself in her shoes_  
_Take another look at the face of Miss Always Invisible_  
_Look a little harder and maybe then you will see why she waits for the day_  
_When you'll ask her her name" _

_― Marie Digby_

* * *

_**Two Months Later… **_

I wake to a soft tapping on my window—one I've heard before in the middle of the night. Rolling over onto my stomach, I flip my lamp on, squinting through the sudden light, and drag myself out of bed to the window. Austin stands on the tree just outside in his pajamas, waiting. Hauling the window open, I lean out the sill.

"Austin?" I hiss. "What're you doing here?" It's not the first time he's ever snuck out to see me at night, of course, but he usually calls me first.

"I came to see you." He replies, leaning towards me, hanging on to the trunk of the large tree with one arm.

"What for?" I ask, leaning my chin in my hands.

"What, I'm not allowed to see my girlfriend?" he scoffs, an easy, joking smile playing across his face. I return the smile, leaning forward and pursing my lips slightly.

The tree isn't that far from my window—maybe three feet at most—making it easy for Austin to lean over and kiss my lips lightly.

"Not at midnight when I have an important physics test tomorrow." I counter easily. He fakes a pout, leaning his forehead against mine.

"Can I just come in?" he asks, pouting out his bottom lip and giving me a puppy dog look. I bite my lip, pretending to consider it.

"Maybe…" I say in a considerate tone. He laughs again, making my stomach flip over itself, and cups my cheek with his hand. He kisses me once again, this time harder, with more fire, more drive. It's the kind of kiss that sucks the air right out of my lungs. My hand moves itself to rest on his shirtfront, gripping his shirt lightly in a small fist.

I don't want him to break the kiss, but after a long few seconds, he does, giving me a begging look again. "Please?" he asks.

I'd be perfectly happy to just stay here, leaning out the window all night, but nevertheless, I move aside, letting him grip onto the window sill and haul himself over the gap into my bedroom. His sandal catches on the sill upon his less-than-graceful entrance, and he falls onto my carpet at my feet. I giggle, kneeling down to help him up.

Sadly, it's too dark for me to see the mischievous smile grace his angelic face, and he catches me by surprise, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into him, still seated on the floor. He plants me in his lap and buries his nose into the crook of my neck.

I laugh as he kisses the base of my neck lightly, feeling my cheeks heat up at his sudden outburst of affection. "You couldn't wait until tomorrow to kiss me?" I tease.

"Not a chance." He replies into my ear. "Trust me, Ally, if you were dating you, you wouldn't be able to wait to kiss you, either." He kisses my cheek and I can't help but smile like an idiot. "Besides, I wanted to ask you what's wrong." He adds after a minute. I frown, turning to face him.

"What do you mean?" I ask. "Nothing's wrong."

"Ally, I love you, but you're a horrible actress." He states blatantly. "Something's bothering you. I can tell."

I open my mouth to argue, but I know it's pointless. Something _has_ been bothering me. It's just not the thing I can talk to Austin about—not completely, anyways. "I just… I–I got my Florida State letter a few days ago." I begin slowly, looking down at the carpet.

"And you waited this long to tell me?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

"I'm sorry, I just… I didn't know how to say it." I apologize.

"Ally, you never have to make a big bravado for me. You don't have to make things a big deal. Just tell me what's wrong, and I'll help you know matter what, okay?" he says earnestly. I nod absently, and he places his hand under my chin, lifting my face up to look him in the eye. "I mean it." He says.

I know that he means it, too. The determined look on his face as he tells me he means it proves it indefinitely; it's not the kind of look you can just fake. It's real, like he is.

"I love you." Is all I can manage to say, looking him in the eye. "I love you so, so much. And I don't ever want to lose you."

"You won't." he promises. "I promise. I'm not going anywhere."

I lean my head against his chest and let him cradle me in his lap, enjoying the warm sensation spreading through my body, making my chest ache in a pleasant kind of way. "That's all I wanted to hear." I breathe happily, closing my eyes and smiling to myself. Suddenly, it feels like the lead weight that's been pressing on my chest these past few days is completely gone. I feel the stress and anxiety of my decision melt away as Austin holds me, rocking me back and forth gently.

"So what did the letter say?" he asks after a few minutes of happy silence.

"I—" there's no turning back now, I know. "I didn't get in."

He stops rocking me momentarily, and I feel his muscles coil tensely beneath his old Aerosmith t-shirt that he wears to bed. "Are you sure?" he asks. I laugh.

"There's really no way I could mistake this, Austin." I say lightheartedly. He rolls his eyes.

"So this has been what's bugging you?" he asks, cupping my cheeks in his hands and holding my face level with his. I nod. "And you couldn't just tell me?"

"Well, how was I supposed to bring it up?" I ask rhetorically. "'_Hey, how's your day going? Mine's great. I mean, I didn't get into the school of my dreams or anything, but all in all, not bad._'" I say for example, forcing a light, easy tone into my voice.

He laughs at my easiness, and wraps his arms back around me, cradling me once more. "Are you okay, though? With not getting into your dream school?"

I close my eyes, breathing in his intoxicating scent of a fresh summer breeze, smiling as butterflies flutter in my stomach once again. It's a beautiful feeling. "Dreams can change." I breathe almost inaudibly into his shirt, feeling my tiredness slowly return and sleep begin to pull me under. "I call this one '_Austin_'."

I feel him shift and lean against the wall, getting comfortable. He reaches up to my bedside table and flicks off the lamp, letting darkness blanket the peaceful room. "I love you, you know that?" he whispers to me as I slowly fall back asleep in his arms. "From now, until forever, I love you."

I think about the acceptance letter on my bedside table a little guiltily, remembering its opening words. "_Congratulations, Miss Dawson._" I should have told Austin the truth, I know, but he would have made me go. He wouldn't have given me the option of staying with him. And I don't ever want to lose him.

I know this absolutely as I fall asleep in his arms; I've made the right choice. And I'd make the same choice again a thousand times over.

Because this, right now? Falling asleep in the arms of the man I love? I wouldn't trade it for the world.

And, in the ultimate twist of events, I'd trade the world for Austin freaking Moon.

**THE END OF THE END**

* * *

**So yeah. I'm sorry this was so late, but January was exams and ISU month, so I had virtually no time to write. Plus, my lovely friends on twitter are REALLY distracting (you guys know who you are. Don't deny it.) Also, I recently started having wrist problems, so I have to sometimes take breaks, or, well, I want to cry in pain. But the important thing is, it's done. And I hope it's taught you something; to not judge people so harshly. They may be just words to you, but to the people you're throwing them at, they could be the final straw. They could be like knifes, cutting deeper and deeper each time they hear them. You never know what's going on in someone's life, and in their minds. You don't know their story, so don't judge them. As Ellen DeGeneres says, be kind to one another. **

**MysteryMe317 is having a "Best of 2012" contest, and Godforsaken High School, Popular to Invisible, and Austin and Ally Facts have all been nominated! This is amazing! Just... Thank you all so much for being so awesome and nominating me and my stories for this honour! I love you guys. I'm the luckiest writer in the world, I swear, because I get to write for you. So go check out the nominees and vote, vote, vote! The voting period ends on February 3rd! **

**Notes! **

**-TheHalfBloodNerd: **First, your username is awesome. Second, thank you so much! I like making Austin a hero, too. But that's just me being a sucker for fairytales and knights in shining armour and happily ever afters and such. Thank you! **  
-Elin: **Well that's good, because that's what I've been trying to say with this story; things are only bad for a while. They get better. Just hang on. Well thank you! I consider myself a writer as well, mainly because I know I am one. Trust me, if you knew me, you'd see that I'd be literally incapable of doing anything else with my life. And I'm okay with that. Thank you! **  
-YayaK: **Oh my goodness! Your eyes must be so tired! But I'm glad you enjoyed it! Thank you! :) **  
-Guest (from chapter 11): **You're so sweet, but you don't have to defend me. I can handle myself. One bad comment isn't going to make any difference. Just because one person doesn't see the reality of bullying doesn't mean my story suddenly becomes fake to me. Thank you, though, really. :) **  
-Anna-chibi: **Haha! Actually, I was thinking of making a sequel, but I decided not to. Why continue something that's happily finished when I can create something that has yet to see its end? I know *sniff* they grow up so fast... I'll miss your reviews! Happy New Year! And thank you so much for being my friend through all this. You're awesome, Anna. Don't ever forget that. **  
-Stephanie-chibi: **And now you don't have to wonder anymore! Yay! She did get in, but she decided to turn it down so she could stay with her one true love. I hope you guys are okay with this ending, 'cause this was like the fifth time I've attempted at writing this epilogue. The other four times did not go so well. Thank you so much, and, like Anna, thank you for being a friend to me! I'm gonna miss you both so much. I love you guys! **  
-ashlee: **No, don't feel stupid! Thank you! And I'm really excited for where Breaking the Rules (my next story) is going! I hope you took breaks in reading this... **  
-Aphrodite: **Awww! Thank you so much! Day = Made! I know, right? Athena is so much more awesome, but Aphrodite is really cool. I mean, she's, like, the original Percabeth supporter. Thank you! And I hope this was enough fluff for you! (Austin's last line was fluffy, right? 'Cause that's what I was going for.) **  
-Razelle: **Awww, Ray-zelle! No, you're perfect! Thank you so much! I hope your heart is okay by now, or do we need to get you to a blender, still? **  
-ooheyy14: **It really is amusing how many times someone has suggested I change the name to "Austin Freaking Moon". But it's not called that because, well, I didn't actually mean for that to happen. It was an accident. I just started writing it at the end of every chapter, and it worked, so I kept going, and yeah. It was honestly an accident.**  
-thecheshirewold: **Haha oh my goodness! You're so sweet! I know, I was kind of numb after I finished writing it. I was like, "Is that it? Is there nothing else to this I can write?" Thank you so much! I hope the epilogue was worth the wait! **  
-Brit: **Aww, thank you! Hmm... I don't know. My stage fright is pretty well crippling, so just... don't look down? I don't know. If you really want it, stage fright shouldn't be in your way. If you really love it, nothing can stop you. My new story is already up! It's called Breaking the Rules, and no, Ally is not bullying Austin in it. It's... it's a bit different. But I like it, so check it out, maybe? **  
-lizara: **Haha, yes it does! Of course they have a happy ending; I will never not give my characters a happy ending. That's just a rule of my writing. Merry Christmas! **  
-DisneychannelwatcherWow: **Haha thank you so much! I know, I don't want it to end, either. Yeah, their relationship was too young for "love" quite yet, so I just made them fall in like. Like in Secrets & Songbooks - it wasn't a love song for them quite yet. Just a denial of a love song. Thank you! **  
**

**So yeah. It's done. After this, I have like five one-shot requests from friends to do, plus one or two for myself, and I've already put up the prologue for my nest story, Breaking the Rules, so check it out! I should be updating in the next week or two if I can! Bye, guys. I'll miss your reviews and favourite and follow alerts in my inbox so much. But thank you for these last months; I wouldn't trade them for the world. I love you guys. **

**-KR Blake Ω **


End file.
